


Forever and One Day

by hero_hero



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - 1940s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Nazi Germany, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Fluff, Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Humor, Living Together, M/M, Nazis, Slow Burn, Tragedy, Vampire!Minho, Vampires, cause it's vampires, gotta have sexy vampires, jeonglix is a side ship, just one smut scene tho, thief!hyunjin, your cliche bad guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:20:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 64,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27165133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hero_hero/pseuds/hero_hero
Summary: When Jeongin takes on an internship at a museum, he expects he'll be doing nothing but getting coffee orders and lunch orders. Even if the project is about vampires, he honestly thinks the whole thing will be boring.But when he finds an old locket in a box of artifacts from Nazi Germany, he finds himself tracking down its rightful owner, and learning the story of a real vampire, a thief, and a supposedly haunted mansion.Or, Minho is an immortal vampire who tells Jeongin the story of his life and how he fell in love with Hwang Hyunjin.
Relationships: Hwang Hyunjin/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Lee Minho | Lee Know & Yang Jeongin | I.N
Comments: 85
Kudos: 285
Collections: Nyxxstay's Recommendations





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HYUNHO AS VAMPIRES - A DELICIOUS CONCEPT
> 
> I've been working on this fic FOREVER and it's my baby and I'm immensely proud of it. I also??? Wrote my very first smut scene in this??? Granted, I'm still not brave enough to say certain body parts (COCK!) so it's more like cowardly implied and it might not even be realistic so just go easy on me lmaooo. But, c'mon, it's hyunho vampires, how could I NOT write a smut scene for this?? 
> 
> also, is this historically accurate? kinda. Will you find loads of inaccuracies if you squint? yes. Did I even decide if they were in Germany or not until halfway through this? also yes. So if you find lotsa plot holes and typos and historical inaccuracies, don't point them out to me bc I am sensitive ;; 
> 
> anyways, I hope you enjoy!!!! :D

“ _Vampires._ ”

That’s the first word that comes out of Felix’s mouth, his hands suspended in the air like he’s trying to grasp a concept. That concept being, for some reason, vampires.

“Um,” Jeongin says, unable to keep himself from grinning. “What?”

“I’m saying, that’s the internship you should do.” Felix looks down at his phone resting on the diner table in between them and turns it towards him. “The university is partnering with the museum and doing a whole research project on vampires. They’re even gonna turn it into an exhibit! Would that be the coolest or _what_?”

“Like, vampire lore or something?” Jeongin frowns as he scrolls through the announcement pulled up on Felix’s phone, calling for university student interns to help with the research. “Not real vampires, right? Vampires aren’t real.”

“I think they used to be, to be honest,” Felix says. “But then for some reason they all disappeared. Crazy Christians probably killed them.”

Jeongin snorts at that. “So, they want to research if vampires were really real or…?”

“Dunno, guess you’ll have to just apply and find out!” Felix grins and pulls Jeongin’s milkshake towards him.

Jeongin pouts at him stealing the rest of his milkshake (since Felix’s own milkshake is long gone) but he shrugs it off as he studies the announcement on Felix’s phone. He just needs any internship of _some_ value to him for the summer. He’s pretty sure that he’ll get stuck with getting coffee and lunch orders all day, but he’d rather be around some company or project that he’s actually interested in instead of something that just looks good on an application. It’s _his_ time he’s wasting, after all. Might as well do somethings somewhat interesting.

Besides, he’s always liked history.

*

Which is how he ends up in a lab of some sort, knocking shyly on the open door as he peeks inside. “Um, hello?”

There’s no response, so he steps through the door to get a better look. It’s a massive room, with white walls, floors, and ceiling. The only windows are the ones off to the right, taking up an entire wall. In the center of the room is a massive table, full of boxes and papers and artifacts, as well as a steaming mug of coffee.

Honestly, it looks like a disorganized mess, and Jeongin checks the paper again to make sure he has the right room.

“Hello!”

Jeongin jumps out of his skin and looks up to find a man with dark, curly hair walking into the room, a box in his arms.

“Can I help you?” the man asks, giving Jeongin a polite, dimple smile.

“Uh, yes.” Jeongin straightens his spine and tries not to say _um_ or _uh_ for the next few sentences. “My name’s Yang Jeongin, I’m the new intern for the, uh—” _Dammit_. “—Vampire project?”

“Oh, Jeongin!” The man grins and deposits the box on the table, which rattles. Jeongin’s eyes dart to the cup of coffee, which looks dangerously close to spilling. The man strides forward, a hand extended. “I’m Bang Chan. I’m in charge of this project. Nice to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you too,” Jeongin says, shaking his hand.

“So, I don’t know how much they’ve told you about the project, but we’re actually not really doing any research,” Chan says, turning back to the table. He spots the coffee, scowls, and moves it to the top of a metal filing cabinet by the door, where there are multiple other mugs, all probably full. “We’re just collecting it all and organizing it into an exhibit for the museum. Sorry if that kind of sounds boring.”

“No, that still sounds interesting,” Jeongin says. “Is it…really about real vampires? Or is it just vampire lore?”

“A bit of both,” Chan says with a smile. “There’s lore to display, but there’s actual evidence of vampires too. The point of this exhibit is to show the chronological history of vampires, all the way up to the present.”

Jeongin can’t help grinning. “Is there going to be a segment on _Twilight_? As the modern vampire?”

“Well, there are lots of differing interpretations of the vampire myth,” Chan says. “There won’t be an entire segment just for _Twilight_ , but there will be a part that shows the treatment of vampires in pop culture and how their image has changed from stories like _Dracula_ into a more sexy vampire like from _Twilight_ and _the Vampire Diaries_.”

“Oh.” Jeongin stops smiling.

Chan, on the other hand, smiles. “Exhilarating, I know!”

Jeongin can’t tell if he’s serious or not.

Luckily, their conversation is interrupted by the appearance of two other guys, both in the middle of an argument as they carry in _more_ boxes from the same doorway Chan came through earlier.

“I’m just _saying_ ,” one of the guys is saying, “vampires could _totally_ be used for underwater exploration. Or even space exploration! If something goes wrong, they won’t drown or freeze to death. They’ll just chill!”

“They wouldn’t be able to take the pressure that deep underwater,” the other one scoffs. “Nothing can. Not even a—purely hypothetical—undead, blood-sucking thing.”

“Guys,” Chan interrupts, and they both blink and look at Chan like they didn’t know he was there until just now. Chan smiles. “Meet our new intern. His name is Jeongin.”

“Aww, he’s so cute!” the first one says.

“He’s tall,” the second one says.

“Jeongin, meet Jisung—” the first one, “—and Changbin—” the second one. Chan gestures to both of them in turn. “They might not look it or sound like it, but they’re actually two of the program’s best and brightest.”

“Aw, Channie, stop, you’re making me blush,” Jisung says.

“I’m not sure whether to be flattered or offended,” Changbin says, frowning.

“Jeongin’s going to help us plan the exhibit,” Chan says.

“Oh, man, I hope you’re squeamish or scared easily, because we just got this huge collection from Germany about a series of experiments that the Nazis ran on supposed ‘vampires,’ as part of their overall human experiments and crimes against humanity,” Jisung says, setting his box down. He opens up the lid and holds up a file, which says _PROJECT VAMPYRE_ on the top.

“Shouldn’t you be using gloves for that…?” Jeongin asks.

“Oh, this?” Jisung flips through the file. “No. It’s just notes and pictures of pictures from the last curator of this collection. Nothing historical here, just paperwork really.”

“He’s more worried about proper handling of the artifacts and documents than actually what’s in them, aw.” Changbin sets down his own box and smirks. “I’m calling it now, he’s going to be very helpful.”

“No, but seriously, the Nazis were _insane_ ,” Jisung says. “One of the theories as to why there aren’t any vampires anymore is because the Nazis killed them all in their experiments!”

“Or there were no vampires to begin with and they just tortured innocent people,” Changbin adds. “Which sounds more like Nazis to me.”

Chan opens another box and pushes it towards Jeongin. “Here. To start off, you just need to check off the items on the list on top. After that, we’ll organize them and put them away. Start doing that with this one. Gloves and masks are in that cabinet over there.” He points to the cabinet with the coffee mugs on top.

Jeongin nods and goes to get his own gloves and mask. Then he comes back and starts going through the contents of the box.

Most of them are already tagged, and there is a file compiling all of that information on top of all of the items in the box. Jeongin goes through and checks each one, then sets the items on the table, in their own little areas, separate from the other three who are doing the exact same thing.

While they work, Jisung rattles off more of his vampire conspiracy theories, and Changbin debunks each one, while Chan just chimes in every now and then with witty one-liners. Jeongin listens to them all chat and laugh and wonders how long they’ve all known each other.

All of this takes a day, and by the end of it, Chan claps Jeongin on the back and tells him he did well. Then he invites Jeongin to go out for drinks with him and the others, but Jeongin declines, reminding them all that he’s only nineteen.

“Oh, no, not alcoholic drinks,” Chan says, grinning. “Jisung’s only twenty, so he can’t even drink yet. No, we’re going out for—”

“BOBA!” Jisung yells, throwing his hands into the air.

Jeongin laughs but still declines. They shrug it off and tell him to come next time.

Jeongin goes home and calls Felix, who is beyond excited to hear about it.

“It’s not that exciting,” Jeongin says, laying on his bed and staring up at the ceiling. “It’s really boring, actually. Just archiving and cataloguing stuff.”

“Aw, but the content has gotta be interesting, right?” Felix says.

“Kinda,” Jeongin says with a shrug. “Wanna come over and play video games?”

“I’m on my way!”

Felix ends up coming over with Chinese takeout. They sit on the floor at the end of Jeongin’s bed and play video games for hours and hours. Near the end of it, Jeongin begs Felix to spend the night, and Felix agrees. But even though Jeongin has a twin bed, they share it anyways and don’t find it strange at all when they end up cuddling each other the entire night.

The next day at the museum is mostly the same. This time they’re cataloguing and dating. Jeongin is bored out of his mind. Not even Jisung’s rants—this time about the probability of there being a parallel universe with vampires, and that _that’s_ where the vampires came from—can liven up this task. Jeongin starts to regret signing up for this internship. At least it’s (probably) better than getting coffee and lunch orders all day, though.

However, as he’s going through some of the boxes to make sure they didn’t miss anything, he finds something. It’s a locket in the bottom of one of the boxes, without a tag or a date on it. Jeongin picks it up. It’s nothing special—just a gold locket and chain, with some intricate design on the front of it. The inside is always what counts.

So Jeongin gently pries it open and blinks down at the image inside.

It’s a photograph, faded with age, of a young man. Jeongin has to pick up the loupe to magnify the picture and see it clearer. The young man is extremely handsome, with perfectly-sculpted cheekbones, a sharp nose, and catlike eyes. He’s smiling, just ever so slightly, so that his eyes sparkle. He’s dressed in a black suit with a white, ruffled top, almost like he’s from the Victorian era.

The image is so mesmerizing that Jeongin stares at it longer than intended, and Chan comes up beside him.

“What’d you find?” Chan asks, making Jeongin jump.

“Oh, um.” Jeongin lowers the loupe and shows Chan the locket. “This was in the bottom of the box. It doesn’t have a tag or anything. It almost looks like it was just thrown in there.”

“Oh.” Chan takes the locket from him. He studies the locket more than the actual photograph in it. “Fascinating.”

“Is there anyone from the photographs who looks like him?” Jeongin asks, gesturing to the photo.

Chan shakes his head. “It’s difficult to tell as of right now. Just tag it and try to categorize it as best as possible. Don’t worry about a date for now.”

He hands the locket back and walks away. Jeongin spends only a few more seconds studying the photograph before he sets it aside.

At the end of the day, the three of them again invite Jeongin out for boba tea, but Jeongin still declines. He heads home instead, texting Felix the entire way. They’re planning to meet for dinner at the local sushi place just down the street from Jeongin’s apartment. He rushes home for a shower and to change. As he empties out his pockets, he feels something round and smooth and metallic. Frowning, he pulls it out and promptly feels his stomach drop.

It’s the locket. The locket, that was apparently an antique now, an artifact that shouldn’t be handled without proper gloves, that should _definitely_ not be shoved into a pocket and carried _home_.

Jeongin takes one look at it and immediately panics.

He took the locket home. _He took the locket home_. He doesn’t even remember putting it in his pocket! _How_ did it get in his pocket?

Oh, god, what if Chan and the others find out? What if Jeongin loses his internship? What if he gets _blacklisted_ from all other internships?!

That’s a stretch, but Jeongin is panicking. He needs to go back to the museum and put the locket back, before anyone else realizes it’s missing.

But the museum is closed. Their workroom is locked up. Jeongin won’t be able to get into it even if he befriends the janitors or the security guards.

He groans and runs a hand through his hair. He’s so screwed.

It’ll be fine, he tries telling himself as he paces in his tiny, one-room apartment. He’ll just return it tomorrow morning. He’ll wait until none of the others are looking and pull out the locket and act like it never left the table. He’ll polish it up and make sure there are no fingerprints or other DNA left on it. It’ll be _fine_.

And if Chan does find out, he seems like an understanding guy. If Jeongin apologizes and explains that it was an accident, Chan will probably shrug it off and say that it’s no harm done.

Jeongin’s phone buzzes. It’s Felix, telling him he’s on his way. Jeongin hasn’t even started getting ready yet. He decides to skip the shower and just changes clothes instead. He keeps the locket in his pocket. He’ll feel better knowing it’s with him.

He goes out and tries to relax during dinner with Felix. Felix is all smiles, like usual. Just looking at him makes Jeongin smile too. Eventually, he relaxes and allows himself to stop worrying and have fun with his almost-boyfriend. Felix even reaches for his hand at one point, and Jeongin happily lets him hold it.

As they’re nearing the end of dinner and waiting for the check, Felix gets up to use the restroom. Jeongin stays back and checks his phone. Every once in awhile, he glances up. It just so happens that he glances up right as someone is entering the tiny restaurant.

Usually, Jeongin would glance away. But he sees the dark hair and the sharp nose and perfect facial structure and does a double-take.

It’s just a young, dark-haired man picking up an order. He leans against the counter as the woman behind it goes to get his order. As he waits, he glances around the shop as well. He glances in Jeongin’s direction, giving Jeongin a perfect view of his face.

Jeongin might as well have gotten struck by lightning.

It’s _him_. The man from the photograph in the locket. Jeongin knows it. He can just _feel it_.

But how? How could it be him? Maybe the locket isn’t as old as Jeongin thought? Or maybe the man in the photograph was this man’s grandfather or something?

The young man studies Jeongin for only a split second before looking away.

At that moment, Felix comes back, and the woman brings the young man his order.

“So, back to your place for video games?” Felix asks. “I’m in the mood to kick your ass at some Rainbow Road.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jeongin says absent-mindedly, his eyes still on the young man. The young man is paying right now. Soon he’ll turn and leave the restaurant, and Jeongin will never see him again. Jeongin can’t let that happen.

“Felix,” he says, looking at Felix. “I’m really sorry, but could you pick up the check? There’s something I need to do.”

Felix looks confused. “What is it that you need to do?”

The young man is turning now, opening the door, and walking out.

“Just—history stuff!” Jeongin jumps up. “I have to go, but I’ll text you!”

He runs out of the restaurant, leaving a confused Felix behind.

The young man is walking fast, forcing Jeongin to break into a slow jog to catch up with him. When he does catch up with him, he scares the crap out of him by exclaiming, “Hey!”

The young man glances at him, a frown on his face. Up close, all doubts that it’s a different person disappear. It’s _him_. It’s really him.

“Can I help you?” the young man asks coldly.

Jeongin gulps. “Yes,” he forces out. “I know this is going to sound weird, but you look really familiar, and I just need to ask you—”

“Jeongin!” Felix is running up to them, still looking confused but now also looking annoyed. “What the hell was that?”

“Nothing, I just had to—” Jeongin starts to say.

“It looks like you have your own issues to sort out,” the young man says. “I’ll be going.”

“No, wait!” Jeongin grabs his arm, and the man stops. A dangerous look flashes in his eye, which shocks Jeongin almost as much as the cold radiating through the man’s sleeve. Jeongin quickly pulls back. “It’s just—” He can’t find the right words.

“Just?” The young man arches an eyebrow. “Just what, kid? Spit it out.”

Jeongin doesn’t know what to say, so he just pulls out the locket and holds it up to the young man.

The man takes one look at the locket and immediately goes rigid.

“Where did you get that?” he asks, his voice unnervingly level.

“From a museum,” Jeongin says. He opens it to show the young man the photograph. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

“What?” Felix frowns at the locket, then looks up at the young man. “What’s going on?”

The man slowly reaches out and picks up the locket, almost like he’s afraid he’ll break it from holding it too tightly. He stares down at it, his face suddenly full of such sadness that Jeongin immediately regrets showing it to him.

“Or, is it one of your relatives?” Jeongin asks. “You just look really similar, so—”

“It’s me,” he says quietly. “You’re right. It’s me.”

“Wait, you got that from the museum?” Felix asks Jeongin, frowning. “Do they know that?”

“It was an accident,” Jeongin explains. “I was going to give it back, I swear. But I just…I saw _him_ and I knew it was the same person.”

“You stole something from a museum?” the young man asks Jeongin.

“No!” Jeongin says. “No, no, I’m an intern for an upcoming exhibit. It’s an exhibit on vampires, actually.”

The young man snorts at that. “Oh, that’s ironic.”

“How so?”

The young man looks up and smiles at Jeongin, teeth and all. “No reason.”

Felix gasps, and Jeongin blinks in surprise at the sight of the slightly sharper teeth…they almost looked like fangs.

“Hold on,” Jeongin says. “Are you…are you a vampire?”

“What gave it away? The fact that I look the exact same as I did in this photograph from eighty years ago or the fangs?”

Felix snorts at that.

“You’re a vampire,” Jeongin repeats, his eyes wide.

“I am,” the young man says.

“Vampires are real.”

“They are.”

“ _How_?”

The young man shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m not an expert.”

“Is that yours, then?” Felix asks, pointing at the locket.

The young man’s face falls again, suddenly full of that overwhelming amount of sadness again. “No,” he says softly. “It’s not mine. But I know whose it was.”

“Really?” Jeongin pipes up. “Is it another vampire? Do you know where we could find them? I think it would be really important to return it before we—”

“Jeongin,” Felix says putting a hand on his arm. “He said _was_.”

“Oh.” Jeongin looks back at the young man. “Oh, god. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s alright,” the young man says. He gives a small smile. “It was another vampire’s. I gave it to him. He wore it every single day, but…” He sighs as he closes the locket gently. “But he’s dead now. He’s been dead for eighty years.”

Felix covers his mouth with a hand, while Jeongin just stares at the young man.

“I’m so sorry,” Jeongin says.

“It’s alright.” The young man looks up and smiles, though his eyes are pained. With what looks like great effort, he holds the locket out to Jeongin. “Here. Better get that back to the museum.”

Jeongin looks at the locket, then shakes his head. “No,” he says. “You keep it.”

“I don’t want it,” the young man says. “It’s too painful. Though…” his brow furrows. “I thought it was destroyed in the fire.”

“What fire?” Felix asks.

The young man doesn’t respond right away. He looks lost in thought. But eventually he shakes his head and says, “Nothing. Never mind.”

Felix looks at Jeongin, whose mind is already whirling with ideas. If this young man truly was a vampire…and if he knew the story behind that locket…then maybe, just maybe, Jeongin could hear the story from him and use it as research and put it into the exhibit.

“Sir,” he says, making the young man look at him. “Like I said, we’re putting together an exhibit on vampires. There’s been a debate about whether vampires were really real or if they were just misunderstood people, sorta like witches were. I think we could really use some real evidence, and I think you and your life story could be a really interesting part of the exhibit.”

The young man doesn’t reply, so Jeongin rushes on.

“Would you be interested in telling me your story?” he asks. “Or, at least, the story behind that locket? It would really help our research, sir. I can keep it anonymous, if you’d like.”

The young man gazes at him for a few moments before looking back down at the locket. His hand closes around it, and he sighs. “Well,” he says, “I suppose I could. It’s not very interesting.”

“It doesn’t have to be interesting,” Jeongin says, grinning. “Even the smallest details will help us aspiring historians!”

The young man smiles at that. “You’re so enthusiastic,” he says.

“He’s a history _nerd_ ,” Felix says, playfully elbowing Jeongin. “He loves anything that has the power to bring history to life. There’s no way he’s passing up on the opportunity to interview an honest-to-god vampire.”

The young man snorts at that. “You kind of remind me of him,” he tells Jeongin.

“Of who?” Jeongin blinks.

“The vampire this belonged to.” The young man nods at the locket. “His name was Hyunjin. And…I loved him more than anything in the world.”

Jeongin doesn’t know how to respond to that, but luckily the young man is once again caught up in his own thoughts—and memories—to notice.

Eventually the young man looks up and smiles at the two of them. “Well, then.” He lifts the bag of takeout he had just ordered. “I should probably get home before this goes bad. Unless, you’d like to join me?”

“That’s not code for you drinking our blood, is it?” Jeongin asks, his eyes narrowing.

Felix nudges him again, but the young man just laughs.

“No, I don’t drink human blood anymore,” he says, waving the thought aside. “Haven’t for a long, long time. Animal blood is easier to get anyways.”

“Oh.” Felix blinks.

“We could schedule a time when you’re available to tell us your story,” Jeongin says.

“I’m available right now,” the young man says.

“Really?” Jeongin pipes up. “Great! Oh, wait.” He looks at Felix. “Is…that okay?”

“As long as I get to come,” Felix says. “No way I’m missing out on a real vampire telling us a story. Plus I’ll be able to save your ass if he decides you look really delicious.”

Jeongin smiles at him, while the young man rolls his eyes.

“All I want is some company and some tea,” the young man says. “My house is just a few blocks away.”

“Let’s go!” Jeongin says.

Fifteen minutes later, the young man—who has introduced himself as Minho—is unlocking the front door to a townhouse and letting the two of them in. He leads them right into the kitchen, where he pulls out a kettle, fills it up, and sets it on the stove. Then he turns to his dinner, which is just two sushi rolls and some miso soup.

“Technically, as a vampire, food does nothing for me, but it just tastes so good,” Minho says when he sees Jeongin watching. Felix has already gotten distracted by one of the cats that trotted into the kitchen.

“Sushi is the best,” Jeongin agrees.

Ten minutes after that, they’re all sitting in the living room. Minho reclines in an armchair, his plate full of sushi in hand, while Jeongin and Felix sit on the couch. Each of them have a steaming mug of tea in their hands, while Felix also has one of Minho’s cats—Soonie—in his lap.

“Do you mind if I record this?” Jeongin asks, pulling up an app on his phone and setting it on the coffee table in between them.

“Not at all,” Minho replies.

“Awesome.” Jeongin grins. “Chan is gonna be so excited when he hears about this…” He presses _record_. “Okay, state your name for the record.”

“Lee Minho, professional vampire,” Minho says with a smirk.

“Ha,” Felix says, grinning.

“Just kidding,” Minho says. “Lee Minho, full-time vampire. At the moment, I work professionally as a choreographer.”

“Ooo,” Felix says.

Jeongin snorts at that. “Please tell us your story,” he says.

Minho sighs. “My story,” he says, mostly to himself. “Huh. Well, it starts about a hundred years ago…and it starts with a ghost story."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: One use of the f-slur, said by a mean dude to Hyunjin.

It started with a ghost story. But before that it started with a mansion.

A big, empty mansion, made out of gray stone and white marble, overgrown with vines crawling up the sides of it. It sat in its own little grove of equally overgrown trees, in a flat expanse of grass, by a tiny town. The inhabitants of the tiny town refused to set foot on that plot of land, despite the mansion and all its rumored wealth and glory.

It was the ghosts, they said. The mansion used to be full of people, of visitors coming and going, of servants bustling about. The vines used to be under control and the windows and doors used to be wide open so everyone could hear the music and laughter floating through. A wealthy family owned it, of course. Just a mother, a father, and a son.

One day, the people stopped coming and going. The doors and windows were slammed shut. Overnight, the servants fled. They fled to the town, white-faced and trembling, telling of some horrible tragedy that had fallen upon the family. No matter how much the rest of the town tried to coax more out of them, the servants refused to say anything else.

No one knew what actually happened to the family. They assumed they had perished in an untimely manner. Perhaps one of the servants had tried to poison them and the father’s rage had been so extreme that all the servants fled in fear. Perhaps they had gone mad and killed each other.

Or perhaps they had just died of some illness. But why hadn’t the servants caught it? Why hadn’t someone gone back for the bodies?

The town decided that it be best if no one went to the mansion, or even set foot onto the land. They decided that _after_ they started hearing the strange noises from the mansion, after they heard a single laugh and haunting songs. And of course after all of the livestock on the estate one-by-one suddenly turned up dead with bite marks in their throats, drained of all blood.

There was something dark, something sinister, something _bloodthirsty_ living in that mansion now…

*

The truth? There was just one inhabitant in that mansion. His name was Minho. He liked to party.

It was true, his parents had died. It was true, the servants had all fled in fear. It was true, there were strange noises and haunting songs and that the livestock had all died mysteriously.

The strange noises were from his record player. He liked music, okay?

The strange singing was just him. Again, he liked music.

The livestock—well, he had to have _something_ to eat, didn’t he?

The truth—Minho was the last surviving member of his family and was some dark, blood-sucking, evil demon called a vampire.

A vampire who, upon discovering that he had his family’s estate all to himself, wasted no time in raiding the wine cellar and digging out all of his hidden records and turning that shit _up_.

He had the whole place to himself? Well, then, he wasn’t going to get dressed. He was going to pour himself a drink when he woke up at noon and was going to wear nothing but a silk black robe around the house. He was going to leave _all_ the windows open, because the place was just _stuffy_ when they were closed. No one was around, anyways. No one was around for _miles_.

He was going to break into his father’s cigar set and smoke at least three a day—okay, maybe just one, since he couldn’t go out and get more, so he should probably savor them. But he was basically undead right now—these things weren’t going to kill him. Might as well live life to the absolute fullest and make his parents roll over in their grave.

Oh and they _definitely_ rolled over in their grave. Especially when Minho ran around outside in the rain wearing absolutely _nothing_ and tracked in all he mud he wanted and put his dirty feet up on his mother’s footrest as he went through all of the jewelry in her jewelry box. All while drinking nothing but wine and whisky and smoking a cigar and trying on all his mother’s jewelry and makeup. Even though he couldn’t see his reflection anymore, he felt like he could _definitely_ pull off some gaudy ruby earrings with a little bit of lipstick, eyeliner, and eyeshadow. It was just one of those things that made him feel good.

God, life was _great_.

Sometimes, he could stay up all night or for weeks straight, and then sleep all day or for weeks in a row, all without someone yelling at him about being a lazy ass.

Sometimes, he could pick up his father’s pretentious religious books and pull out all the pages and feed them one by one into the fire.

Sometimes he could just take _all_ of the religious objects in the house (while wearing protection, of course) and throw it out.

Sometimes, he could take all of his mother’s ugly china and drop it from the top of the staircase and laugh his head off when it shattered all over the polished marble floors.

Sometimes he could just sit and stare at the ugly portrait of his grandfather in the library and then decide to burn a hole through his face with the end of his cigar.

Minho was eternally young and had an entire _mansion_ to himself. He knew anyone else who had lived their entire life with a silver spoon in their mouths would do the exact same thing.

The only thing, he supposed, that was missing was the fact that he didn’t have an endless amount of sexual partners to truly drive the point home. An endless amount of _male_ sexual partners. Oh, how _that_ would have absolutely destroyed his parents. Minho laughed his head off every time he thought about it.

He supposed he could always go out and find and seduce any pretty young man he saw. He supposed he could lure such a young, pretty man back to his mansion and have hot, dirty, loud _, sinful_ sex all night long. And he supposed he could silence the young, pretty man by biting him and sucking all of his blood and then disposing of his body the next morning.

Yeah, Minho _supposed_ he could do all of that. But…nah. That sounded too much like a predator. And Minho was _not_ a predator. He may have fangs and drink blood, but he was otherwise determined to stay as harmless as possible. He was going to keep to himself. If that meant he was a little bit lonely, well, that was fine. It was much better than getting staked in the heart by a bunch of angry villagers.

Minho knew what he was. He knew about all the stories. He knew how much people hated vampires, how terrified they were of them. He knew what people called things like him—monsters, demons, soulless, blood-sucking bastards. He knew what would happen to him if people found out what he was. So he kept to himself.

He kept to himself. He partied by himself. Drank by himself (even though he couldn’t get drunk anymore). Smoked by himself, sat in a room staring at the ceiling while listening to music by himself. Stared out a window at the nearby town by himself, wondering what people were doing, if they were happy, if they had a family or a significant other or even a cat. Minho wanted a cat. A cat would be a nice companion. Besides, his mother never let him have a cat.

He liked this life, he tried telling himself. This was freedom, he tried telling himself. This was everything he wanted, he tried telling himself.

It wore off after about, oh, five years. Minho was honestly surprised he lasted that long.

This wasn’t everything he wanted. This was slowly turning into a self-made prison.

He hated to admit it but…he was lonely. There, he said it. He was lonely as _fuck_. He wasn’t used to being alone for this long. Besides, after all the drinking and smoking and music and rebellion…he had nothing, really. Nothing and no one.

But if he wanted more, then he would have to go out and get it. And after being cut-off from society and in self-isolation for years, the thought of even setting foot outside terrified him to the point where he almost threw up or blacked out. People would find out about him if he went into town. People would fear him and then hate him and then kill him in the most gruesome of ways if he went outside.

He had no choice. He had to stay inside. Sooner or later, someone would get cocky and come exploring the mansion. Minho could only hope that they wouldn’t kill him if they found him.

Finally, ten years after Minho woke up as a vampire, someone got the guts to explore the mansion.

*

Minho was in his room, like usual, one of his records playing softly. It wasn’t like his other records, which were loud and a bit risqué. It was actually one of his mother’s, containing nothing but soft melodies and stupid love songs. Minho used to hate love songs. Now, well, he still hated them for different reasons, but he listened to this record more than the others because of how soft and beautiful the melodies were. Or, that’s what he tried telling himself.

He was staring out the window, his cheek leaning against the palm of his hand, when he heard it. It was the sound of something breaking from downstairs. Minho sat bolt-upright, his heart pounding out of his chest. Were they here? Were they finally here to kill him? How did they find him?

Or was it a thief? Minho would not stand for thieves. This was _his_ house. _His_ things. No one was going to steal a damn thing from him, not if he had anything to say about it.

So he got up and slipped silently out the door and down the hall. He leaned against the railing at the top of the double staircase, peering down into the foyer. He heard someone moving around deeper within the house, possibly in the library or the drawing room. Minho scowled but walked down the stairs, thinking with mild amusement that it was probably a good thing he had gotten back into the habit of wearing clothes.

He paused in the doorway of the drawing room. None of the lights were on, but there was just enough moonlight filtering through the windows to illuminate a figure moving around in the room, grabbing things off the mantle and shelves and shoving it into a bag slung over a shoulder.

Great. It really was a thief. Minho sighed silently to himself, trying to think of the best way to deal with this. Perhaps just scaring the thief would suffice. Make him think he saw a ghost and not a vampire.

So Minho did what any ghost would do and slammed the door before slipping down the hallway to the other door. He peeked through it, watching the thief jump and whirl around to look at the door. Minho could see the way the thief trembled, the way his eyes widened as he realized that the stories told about this place probably had a kernel of truth to them. Minho smirked to himself, waiting patiently.

The thief finally turned towards the other door, probably content with everything he had stuffed in his bag and ready to get out of there. He took one look at Minho standing in the door and screamed.

“I believe you have something of mine,” Minho said in the most haunting voice he could muster. Though, after a few years of smoking and not really speaking to people, his voice came out gravely and hoarse without even trying.

It certainly did the trick, since the thief went white and pointed a gun at Minho. Minho fought the urge to roll his eyes, especially as the thief managed to say, “Stay back!”

Minho decided to fuck with him and to start walking towards him slowly, never taking his eyes off of the thief for a moment. This really wasn’t the time, but the thief was ridiculously attractive. Dark hair, cat-like eyes, plump lips, a beauty mark under one eye—beautiful. Totally Minho’s type, if Minho was honest. The fact that he was a bit taller than Minho with long, beautiful limbs and a tiny waist just sealed the whole deal. Such a pity that he was currently staring at Minho in horror and pointing a gun at his face. After trying to steal from him and his family.

“Don’t,” the thief tried to say, his voice trembling with fear as Minho kept calmly stepping towards him. “Stay away. Stay away.”

“Make me,” Minho said.

The thief shot him. His hand was shaky, so his aim was a bit off, but he still got Minho in the shoulder.

Minho did stop, though he looked down at his shoulder with more annoyance than anything. If it wasn’t a silver bullet, it wouldn’t do shit. And this definitely wasn’t a silver bullet. No thief would waste his coin on silver bullets.

“Ow,” Minho said, looking back up at the thief, whose face had completely drained of all color. He decided the best bet was to then shoot Minho again, and again, and again, until he was out of bullets. He did hit Minho in the chest a couple times, so his aim wasn’t complete shit, but Minho just stood there and looked at him. Then he raised his eyebrows and said, “Are you finished?”

“What are you,” the thief whispered, his eyes full of horror.

Minho just grinned, knowing his fangs would catch in the moonlight _just_ right. “An abomination.”

The thief took one look at him and his fangs and probably made a split-second decision that was more instinct than anything. Which was why he turned and jumped through the window behind him.

Minho was more caught-off guard by the fact that the thief had literally just smashed through the glass like it was nothing. He didn’t bother going after the thief. He was pretty sure he’d done enough. That thief was probably not going to be back anytime soon. And Minho was glad, because if this thief was going to break into his house, steal his shit, _and_ leave by breaking through his window, he was going to have to intervene. And by intervene, he meant drink his blood. Obviously.

Seriously, how the hell was Minho supposed to replace a window? He could honestly care less about what the thief had stolen—there wasn’t much down on this level of the house that was valuable anyways. But a window—

He decided that his best bet was, unfortunately, to nail a couple of planks in place. He hated that, since it made this half of the drawing room so much darker and stuffier, but it was either this or leave a gaping hole for thieves to come and go as they please.

(Though, Minho had to admit, he wouldn’t mind if it was the same pretty thief. He supposed that was just his loneliness acting up, though)

He spent the following day nailing the planks to the window, and then retired to his room like normal that night.

This time, he sensed more than heard the thief come. And of course he had to drag himself up out of bed and down the hall to figure out what the thief was going to steal this time.

The thief—the same beautiful thief—was in the foyer this time, but he didn’t notice Minho standing at the top of the stairs. No, he was too busy staring down the portraits hanging on the wall, the one of Minho and his family, and the one of Minho and his grandmother. It appeared as though the thief was studying the portrait of Minho and his grandmother more closely.

Minho stiffened at that. He had thought that a portrait like that was safe. It was just a painting of some rich old lady and a young boy, and despite being painted like some renaissance painting, it wasn’t even that old. It was essentially worthless to anyone other than Minho. To Minho, it was the one thing he could not bear to lose. Unlike the rest of his family, he had actually had a good relationship with his grandmother. She had been made out of the same fiery material as him, and he had felt that she was the only one who understood him. After she died when he was a young boy, the only thing he had left was that portrait of her.

If that thief was going to try to steal that damn painting, Minho might actually have to kill him. Didn’t matter how pretty a face he had.

The thief, however, didn’t look like he was going to steal the painting. He just looked like he was studying it, probably trying to figure out the story in this mansion. Minho dropped his chin into his palm, propped up on the railing. It was getting boring just watching him do nothing but stare at a stupid painting.

So, he called out in a lazy voice, “If you try to steal that, I might actually have to kill you.”

The thief jumped out of his skin and whirled around to look up at Minho. Minho now noticed that he wore a crucifix—a _silver_ crucifix—around his neck. Minho fought the urge to sigh at that.

“What are you?” the thief demanded.

“I thought you figured it out,” Minho said. “You seem smart.”

The thief narrowed his eyes at him but then looked at the portraits. “That’s you. And your family,” he said.

“Yes, very good. So smart.”

The thief shot him a look but asked, “What happened to your parents? Are they here too?”

Minho rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, dear thief, there isn’t a whole nest here ready to devour you. It’s just me. Everyone else has fled in fear.”

“So the stories are true,” the thief said. “Something awful really did happen here. You killed everyone.”

“Me?” Minho snorted. “Do I look like I have the capability to _kill_ so mercilessly?”

“You _literally_ just threatened to kill me.”

“Oh, that’s true, isn’t it.” Minho hummed. “But that’s not merciless. That’s just…” he shrugged. “Reasonable. You steal my things, I lash out. Don’t they execute thieves after they arrest them anyways?” He smirked.

The thief swallowed at that, and Minho’s smirk widened.

“Are you going to kill me right now?” the thief asked.

“No, that seems rather boring,” Minho drawled. “I think I’ll just lurk in the shadows and make you terrified for your life as you proceed to steal everything I own.”

“You can’t touch me,” the thief said, gripping his crucifix.

Minho just grinned, though it was more like he was baring his teeth than anything. “I guess we’ll find out.”

The thief didn’t stick around after that. He turned and ran, and Minho laughed after him, making sure the sound echoed in the foyer and reminded the thief exactly what he was messing with. Hopefully it would make the thief think twice about returning.

But as the days passed, Minho started to grow agitated. He now spent his time sitting in front of the window in his room, waiting for the torches and pitchforks to appear in the distance. They never came, but he knew it was only a matter of time. The thief knew what he was. The townsfolk could set aside their differences and hatred of each other to deal with a monster. All it took was a few words from the thief and then they would be here to send Minho back to Hell.

And yet, they never came. Only the thief came. And he only came to annoy Minho, essentially.

“You know,” Minho said from where he sat in a plush chair cast in shadow in the library, making the thief jump out of his skin and whirl around to look at him. “There are much _better_ places to steal from, with much more valuable items in them. Just a thought.”

“Other places require picking locks and sneaking past guards and alarms,” the thief retorted, apparently over his initial fear. “This one just has the equivalent of a dusty, walking corpse that just so happens to have fangs. Not much to get past.”

“Ouch,” Minho said. “I could easily overpower you.”

The thief rolled his eyes. “Yeah, so could anyone else. That doesn’t make you special.”

Now Minho scowled and stood from his chair slowly, trying his best to appear threatening. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t started putting more effort into his appearance, exchanging the silk robe for a dark suit with a red silk shirt. You know, typical vampire attire. He had even dabbed a little bit of red lipstick on as well as added a hint of dark eye makeup to make himself look a little bit more intimidating. Apparently it wasn’t working, because the thief just eyed him with disinterest.

“See, you’re easy to get past,” the thief said. “You just _lurk_. And brood. And threaten. You’re all bark with no bite.” He smirked. “No pun intended.”

“I could bite,” Minho scoffed, stepping forward.

“Prove it,” the thief shot back.

Minho wasn’t really one to step up to challenges, but in this instance, his pride was somewhat wounded, so he lunged forward.

And promptly got a handful of garlic powder to the face.

“Yeah,” the thief said smugly as Minho recoiled and staggered, gasping in pain as the garlic burned his face and eyes, rendering him blind for a few moments. “I’m terrified.”

Then he left, taking a gold box and ashtray with him. Meanwhile, Minho had to rinse his face several times to get the stinging and burning out of his eyes. Unfortunately, he couldn’t look into a mirror to check for any visible damage. He could only hope that it didn’t leave any visible marks. Though, he supposed the real damage was more internal than anything else.

But Minho refused to let the thief get to him. That bastard thought he could just waltz in here and steal Minho’s things _and_ throw garlic powder or holy water in his face? Well, he was in for a rude awakening.

The next time the thief came, Minho didn’t make his presence known. He hid in the shadows, waiting for the thief to let his guard down. When the moment was right, he was going to lunge out and grab him by the throat and maybe snarl in his face. That would scare anyone, right?

But right before Minho was about to move out of his hiding place, the thief turned partially, giving Minho a view of his face. There was an ugly bruise on his cheekbone. Like someone had smacked him across the face. It made Minho pause. He had earned his fair share of bruises when his parents were alive, though the worst ones were when they caught Minho with another man.

He stopped, his heart aching at the memory. He realized in that moment that he really didn’t know much about this thief. He didn’t know his past, his family life, his current situation. He didn’t even know his name. How did Minho know that this young, beautiful thief wasn’t just stealing out of necessity? Stealing to survive? How could Minho be so cruel as to willingly go out of his way to make life more difficult for this thief?

Minho had promised even before he turned that he would never be like his parents. He would not be selfish, or cruel. And after he turned, he promised that he would never become a monster.

So he withdrew and watched the thief from a distance. Even with that bruise on his face, he was still beautiful. Ethereal. Stunning. Minho could stare for ages.

He realized later that night, after the thief had left, that if he really did succeed in scaring the thief off for good, then he’d be alone again. How sad was he, how _desperate_ , that he willingly let someone come in and slowly pick apart his home until there was nothing left. Would it be different if the thief was average-looking? Minho liked to think not, but he knew his desperation and loneliness would probably make anyone beautiful in his eyes.

And yet even as he slowly started to grow attached to this thief, the thief always found a way to throw either garlic powder or holy water in Minho’s face. One time he even held out a crucifix and smirked as he backed Minho into a corner. Then he left the crucifix on the floor and walked away, leaving Minho to either stay cowering in that corner forever or momentarily overcome the pain just to kick the crucifix away so he could _breathe_.

He was cruel, so cruel, and yet he was so beautiful. Minho found himself more entranced by him than ever.

Besides, in the eyes of the thief, Minho was a monster, wasn’t he? Minho couldn’t blame the thief for his behavior. Anyone else would do the same, probably.

One night, Minho was back in his room, once again listening to the same record and looking out the window, just in case. He wasn’t sure if the thief was coming tonight. He wasn’t even sure if he was in the mood to get garlic powder or holy water in his eyes or mouth tonight. Instead, he thought a glass of wine sounded much better.

Since his wine stocks were running low, he didn’t let himself drink nearly as often. Rather, he limited himself to maybe one glass of wine a week. Maybe he could make a deal with the thief to bring him a bottle of wine the next time he decided to steal something. Minho figured they could work with that. A fair trade, right? If the thief insisted on taking things, he might as well give _something_ back once in awhile. Especially to make up for all of the unnecessary throwing of garlic powder.

He headed down to the wine cellar and then took his time heading back upstairs. He was so sure that the thief wasn’t coming tonight that he almost dropped the wine bottle when he stepped into his room and found _him_ of all people in there.

The thief looked up from where he was standing by Minho’s record player. “This is a bit old, isn’t it?” He held up the sleeve of the record that was currently playing. “Pretty sure only wrinkly, cranky, bags of bones still listen to this stuff.”

Minho scowled. “That might be one other thing I’ll have to kill you for if you so much as _think_ about stealing that.”

The thief snorted and tossed the sleeve onto the coffee table next to the record player. He turned to face Minho, revealing a split lip this time. Minho arched an eyebrow at him, especially as he watched the thief’s eyes travel down the length of Minho’s body and back up again, all within the blink of an eye. Minho wanted to roll his eyes. Of all the things that got this damn thief to do a double take, it was the black silk robe? At least he had remembered to put on other clothes underneath this time.

“What’s that?” The thief pointed at the bottle in Minho’s hand.

“Blood,” Minho replied dryly. “I like to bottle it and savor it over time. Maybe I’ll do the same to yours. I have a feeling it will be the sweetest out of them all.”

The thief didn’t seem fazed. “There’s literally a label on it from a vineyard.”

“I reuse wine bottles.”

“It’s just wine.”

“Perhaps it is—either way it’s mine and you’re not touching it so will you please get on with your stealing business and get out of my room.”

“How do you know I haven’t stolen anything already?” The thief arched an eyebrow, almost playfully.

Minho sighed. “I’d tell you to turn out your pockets but I feel like I’d just get an entire bottle of holy water to the face, so…I don’t care.” He waved him off and went to sit on the edge of his bed, since the thief was standing next to his favorite chair and record player. Minho knew if he tried to get closer, he’d just end up with some burning eyes. That was _not_ how he wanted this night to go.

“How old are you, anyways?” the thief asked.

Minho just shrugged and decided to drink straight from the bottle.

“Or, how long have you been a vampire?” the thief asked instead.

“I thought you were leaving,” Minho scoffed, arching an eyebrow at him. “Or are you waiting to throw something in my face? Or shoot me with a silver bullet? Or put crucifixes all over my room?”

The thief snorted, smirking to himself. “See, if I didn’t know what I did about vampires, I’d say you have actual feelings.” He tilted his head to one side.

Minho just looked away. So the thief really did think Minho was some sort of soulless monster. Great.

When that didn’t get the rise out of Minho like the thief intended, the thief frowned at him.

“If I decide to lunge at you, will that finally get you to throw whatever it is you want at me and leave?” Minho asked.

“What if I don’t want to leave?” The thief demonstrated this by sitting down in Minho’s favorite chair and crossing one leg over the other. He raised his eyebrows at him. “What if I’ve decided I want to stay here?”

Minho blinked at him, the loneliness and desperation clawing its way up his throat. The thief…wanted to stay? He wanted to be here, with Minho?

“You want to stay?” Minho asked, his voice soft.

The thief nodded. “I wouldn’t have to steal anything anymore. Everything here would already be mine.”

“Would be ours,” Minho corrected. His throat was already constricting with emotion. _Ours_.

“Sure,” the thief said. He smiled. “It would be ours.”

 _Ours_.

“Don’t you already have a home, though?” Minho asked.

“Not really,” the thief admitted. He looked away. “I…well, you’ve probably already figured this out, but…I’m not in the best situation right now. I’ve had to steal things so I can sell them and make enough money just to buy food every night. Some nights I’m able to pay for a night at an inn, some nights I just sleep out on the street.”

“And the bruises?” Minho’s voice was barely above a whisper.

The thief cringed, his hand going up to his split lip. “Just get into fights with other homeless, I guess. Joke’s on them, though—none of them have even _thought_ about trying to loot here. All the locals here are scared shitless of this place.” He smirked at Minho. “You have quite the reputation.”

Minho just shrugged.

“But I don’t think you’re that bad,” the thief continued with a small smile. “I think you’re charming, actually. This place is charming too, in its own way. It’d be nice, to finally have a place to call home.”

“You can stay,” Minho said. “You can stay here…with me.”

The thief smiled at him, looking actually grateful, and Minho smiled back. They smiled at each other for a few moments, during which Minho was already thinking about what it would be like to _finally_ be with someone after being alone for so long.

And that was when the thief burst into laughter. Minho blinked in surprise, wondering what he had said that was funny. Unless—?

His eyes widened right as the thief finished laughing long enough to say, “Oh my _god—_ you really fell for that? You really think I want to willingly live in this shithole with a blood-sucking demon? Oh my _god_.” He laughed harder, practically holding his stomach. “God, it just took one sob story and you fell for it. I guess you could say you’re a _sucker_ , huh?” He had to wipe at his eyes this time, still laughing to himself.

Minho, on the other hand, was not laughing. He felt like throwing up, actually.

No, worse than that. He felt like crying.

He wasn’t going to let the thief know that, though.

“Wow.” The thief chuckled to himself, still grinning as he stood. “Well, have fun dreaming about _that_ , vampire. It literally only exists _in your dreams_.” He laughed again, shook his head to himself, and strolled out of the room. Minho could hear him laughing all the way down the hall and into the foyer until he finally left.

Only once he was sure the thief was gone did he finally let go of the tears he had been holding back the entire time.

He felt sick. He felt so, so sick. So sick of being lonely, of being this _thing_. So sick of living in fear, of people only seeing him as some blood-sucking monster instead of anything else.

But also, he was angry. Angry at himself. At the thief, too, but mostly at himself. He had gotten so desperate to the point where he really had fallen for that. The thief was right—like that entire scenario could ever be anything more than a dream. Minho’s mother had always told him to never trust the lowlifes, and here Minho was, doing just that and sorely paying the price.

Sick. So, so sick.

He ended up drinking that entire bottle that night. It didn’t help at all.

*

The thief came back the next night. He strolled right in like he owned the place. Minho couldn’t believe he’d ever thought he could be trusted. He glared at him with disgust from his hiding place in the shadows on the second level of the foyer, refusing to move. He watched as the thief just walked up to the second level and went right to Minho’s room. Minho supposed he should stop him. Maybe finally snap and get rid of him once and for all. But what was the point? If he did that, he’d just be everything the thief had told him he was. Nothing more than some blood-sucking demon.

He just hoped the thief wasn’t looking to steal his record player, though. Or records, for that matter.

But the thief didn’t steal anything, though he did come out of the room looking somewhat confused. He glanced around the hallway and called out, “I get it, you’re probably hiding to scare me later, is that it? Very funny.” He rolled his eyes, but when Minho refused to come out, he spread his hands and said, “Okay, you don’t have to scare me. You can just come out right now. I promise I won’t throw anything in your face.”

Minho almost snorted at that, but doing so would alert the thief of his presence. So he just stayed there, waiting for the thief to leave.

The thief did leave, eventually. Not before he took Minho’s mother’s jewels, though.

Let him take them, Minho thought. Minho didn’t have a use for them anyways. He didn’t have a use for any of this stuff.

The thief came back the next night. Once again Minho stayed in the shadows and watched him. Once again the thief called out for him, asking where he was, if someone had finally gotten to him.

“Oh, I know what it is,” the thief said, smirking. “Someone staked you through the heart, didn’t they? A pity they got to do it. I always kind of wanted to do it.”

 _And I always wanted to rip your throat out_ , Minho thought with a scowl.

When Minho didn’t fall for it, though, the thief frowned, something like worry crossing his face.

“Oh,” he said in a softer voice. “You’re…you’re really not here, are you?”

More bait. Hopefully if Minho didn’t take it, the thief would finally just leave for good. Leave Minho to wallow in his self-hatred and misery and loneliness. The thief had made it clear that he was going to leave anyways, hadn’t he?

The third time, the thief didn’t even call out for him. He just grabbed more of Minho’s mother’s things and left. Minho wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or grateful.

Then the thief didn’t come for a few days. Minho started to think that he had finally looted what he could from the mansion and had looked for thieving elsewhere. Good riddance, he supposed.

Right when Minho was starting to get used to his lonely situation again, the thief showed up.

He looked awful, all pale and sickly and with a nasty bruise forming around his eye. He burst into the house like he was being chased and frantically looked around. He started taking anything he could get his hands on—pots, candelabras, other trinkets—and shoved it all in a bag. Minho watched from his usual spot in the shadows of the second floor, thinking that the thief had finally had enough of this place and was ready to sell as much as possible to get away from him. Again, good riddance. Minho could care less.

That is, until the thief stopped and turned to look at the painting of Minho and his grandmother on the wall.

Minho tensed. _No_.

The thief swallowed but stepped forward, reaching out to take the frame off the wall.

Minho didn’t remember reacting. All of a sudden he was just moving and grabbing the thief by the throat and throwing him up against the wall. The thief let out a terrified scream, his eyes wide with pure fear as he clawed helplessly at Minho’s hand around his throat.

“I said not to touch that!” Minho snarled, his face mere centimeters away from the thief’s.

“You did, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the thief whispered frantically, trying to shy away from Minho’s snarling face, only to find that there was nowhere to go. “I’m so sorry, please—”

“I should kill you,” Minho said.

The thief’s eyes widened even further at that. He tried to shake his head as much as possible. “No, no, please, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—I didn’t mean to, I just—”

Minho tightened his grip, cutting off the thief’s words. He could kill him. He could kill him right now. He hadn’t really had anything to drink in a couple months. Wasn’t it time for something…fresh? In all honesty, Minho had never tried human blood. He had always been too afraid of it. Too afraid of being driven mad by it, causing him to seek out more of it and become that insatiable monster from the stories.

He could get rid of this thief once and for all. Teach him a lesson. Keep anyone else from ever finding him here. No one would miss some lowly thief.

The thief was crying now, the tears streaking down his face. “Please,” he whimpered, since that was all he could really do.

Minho took a deep breath and released him. The thief sank to the floor, his legs too weak to support him. He sucked in a breath and coughed several times. Minho just looked down at him in disgust.

He could still kill him, if he wanted. But it wasn’t worth it.

“Never come back here,” Minho said. “If you do, I will kill you. I’ll kill you and anyone you bring with you.”

The thief just nodded, holding his throat.

Minho turned, plucked the painting off the wall, and tucked it under his arm. He didn’t spare the thief another glance as he walked away, back to his room.

*

The thief heeded Minho’s warning and didn’t come back. At first, Minho was grateful. But then, without much surprise, he found he missed him.

Of course he missed him—despite being a thief and a liar and a manipulator, he was still the only kind of interaction Minho had had in a decade. Minho’s lonely heart couldn’t let go of that so easily.

But he had to. He had to move on. There was no point in sulking over it for years and years.

So Minho did his best to shove the thief from his mind. Since he couldn’t get drunk off his ass anymore, he found that just moving around and doing any kind of menial task helped. The thief had called Minho’s lovely home a shithole—might as well prove him wrong.

Granted, Minho hadn’t really _cleaned_ that much before he turned, but he had watched the servants do it many times. Couldn’t be that difficult, right?

Sweeping and dusting and wiping down dusty surfaces wasn’t that difficult. Figuring out what mixture to use to mop and polish the floors, however, _was_. Minho didn’t want to permanently ruin his floors if he did it incorrectly, so he skipped the mopping and polishing. He moved on to beating out rugs (and promptly sneezing and coughing when the dirt went right into his face) and getting rid of cobwebs (Minho was deathly afraid of spiders but they needed to go. He didn’t scream _that_ much) and fixing little leaks and holes where he saw fit.

He finished within a week and was quite proud of himself. But now that everything was tidy and clean, he saw how empty his house really was. How much it was crumbling. Some of the baseboards were warping. The wallpaper was peeling. Sections of the walls had mold in them. He didn’t even _want_ to know what the pipes were like. It would really take a lot to return this place to its former glory. Minho wasn’t sure if he had that capability.

After his week of cleaning, he collapsed on the couch in the drawing room with a well-earned glass of wine and a cigar. He didn’t turn his record player on, mostly because he wasn’t in the mood to listen to any sort of love song. So he just closed his eyes and listened to the silence instead.

It was because of that silence that he heard the scream.

Minho had heard screams before, from animals. He heard them all the time out here. This…was _not_ an animal scream.

If Minho were alive, this kind of scream would make his blood run cold and give him goosebumps. Currently, it made him sit up and listen.

He didn’t hear anything else, but that didn’t calm him in the slightest. He went upstairs, to the windows, looking for the angry villagers coming to attack him. But instead of torches and pitchforks, he saw a few stragglers running up the overgrown path through the darkness. That made him frown.

Against his better judgment, he opened the window and listened. There were definitely people out there—close by, too. And yet they didn’t seem to be getting closer. In all honesty, it sounded like they were attacking something.

A hunt, perhaps? Minho rolled his eyes and started to close the window again when he heard a cry of pain, one that sounded all too familiar. A breeze picked up, carrying the unmistakable smell of blood. It made Minho salivate, and then he was walking downstairs, through the front door, and out into the night.

He followed the sounds and the smell, creeping silently through the night like a phantom. Soon he came upon the source of the noises, and he stopped.

If he had thought the noises were chilling from up at the house, they were entirely unbearable at the source.

It wasn’t an animal these people were attacking. It was the thief.

Minho could do nothing for a moment but stand there and stare, horrified. Another man had the thief pinned to the ground and was currently beating the shit out of him while the thief desperately tried to fight him off. The attacker was saying something, too, and punctuating it with every blow, but Minho wasn’t really hearing him. He was too busy staring at the bloody, mangled mess that the thief’s face was becoming. Too busy staring and progressively getting angrier and angrier.

The thief fought off the attacker for long enough to crawl away, only for the attacker to pounce on him again, this time armed with a large rock. Minho’s eyes widened as the attacker brought the rock down on the thief, who somehow managed to twist around so the rock hit his shoulder instead of his head. It still made a sickening crunching noise as the thief screamed in pain a moment later.

As the attacker raised the rock again, Minho’s instincts took over. He lunged forward, as swift and as silent as the wind, grabbed the attacker, and promptly ripped his throat out with his fangs.

Blood went everywhere. The attacker’s face was eternally frozen in a silent scream of fear and pain and splattered with his own blood. The moment the blood touched Minho’s tongue, it was like life went surging back into him. Every single sense was heightened. He could hear everything—the tiniest rustling of a leaf, the rapid beating of the thief’s heart, the drip of the attacker’s blood onto the dirt. He could smell everything too—rain, dirt, and blood. Delicious, sweet blood. Minho wanted it all. Human blood was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. He almost tore into the dead attacker right then and there, but a voice in the back of his mind called him back.

He dropped the attacker’s body at his feet and turned to look at the thief. The thief was staring up at him with pure horror, somehow more terrified than he had been the last time Minho had tried to kill him. Minho took a step towards him, and the thief frantically crawled backwards, making panicked little cries that reminded Minho of a tiny animal caught in a trap. He was crying again, the tears mixing with the blood on his face.

As much as the smell and taste of blood thrilled him, Minho wasn’t completely gone yet. He had intervened for a reason.

Just like that, he snapped out of it. His senses were still heightened, but he wasn’t driven mad by them. Instead, he could hear more people approaching. They were laughing and calling out someone’s name in a taunting manner.

“Come out, come out, you little thief!”

A laugh. “Yeah, there’s nowhere you can hide!”

Minho now understood what this was. In that case, he had to act quickly.

So he turned to the thief and grabbed him by the front of the shirt. The thief let out a terrified yelp as Minho brought their faces dangerously close together.

Then Minho said, “Scream.”

The thief didn’t need to be told twice. He opened his mouth and screamed, nearly shattering Minho’s eardrums, but Minho supposed he deserved that. It was a bloodcurdling scream, one that Minho knew would render anyone immobilized in fear for a moment before coming right towards it.

Minho then clamped a hand over the thief’s mouth and lowered him back on the ground. The thief made a strangled noise in the back of his throat and tried to wriggle away, to get away from Minho before he ripped out his throat too. Minho quickly shook his head and brought a finger to his lips. The thief momentarily stopped struggling, though his eyes were still wide and terrified and glistening with tears.

“Trust me,” Minho whispered. “Don’t move, don’t make a sound. Trust me.”

The thief just stared at him as Minho removed his hand from his mouth.

Minho turned around, scooped up a handful of blood from the dead attacker, and smeared it all over the thief’s throat.

The thief panicked at that, once again letting out a strangled cry and trying to get away.

Minho grabbed him and clamped a hand over his mouth again. “Shh! Stop! It’s okay! I’m not going to bite you. Just _trust me_. Trust me.”

The thief shook his head, making it clear that he would probably never trust Minho, but the sounds of something crashing through the forest made both of them go rigid. The other humans were coming. Minho had to act now.

“Play dead,” Minho hissed at the thief. That was all the warning he gave before shoving the thief to the ground and putting his face right next to the thief’s bloody throat.

The thief went rigid and probably stopped breathing right as the other humans broke through the underbrush. A beam of light fell on Minho, crouched right over the thief’s bloody throat, while another went to the dead attacker, laying in a pool of his own blood with his throat ripped out.

One of the humans screamed in horror, while another shouted, “What the hell is that?!”

Minho then took that moment to lift his face, his mouth still dripping blood, and snarl at the group of humans. They screamed again, but this time, one of them reacted by raising a pistol and shooting at him. That sent Minho into a panic. He threw himself over the body of the thief as the bullets tore into Minho’s shoulder and torso. The thief made another strangled cry, and that was what tipped Minho over the edge again.

He went into what he could only describe as a blind rage. Suddenly he was on his feet and lunging at the humans, who once again screamed and tried to shoot him or attack him, but it was all useless. Some of them ran. But the ones in the front of the group got their throats ripped out.

Blood. So much blood. With every taste, Minho wanted more. It drove him to attack and bite and tear and—at one point—suck. Drink. He wanted all of it. Every single last drop. He wanted to relish in this moment of pure strength, where he was the most powerful being in existence, where just a single look from him sent people running. He wanted people to _fear him._

But then the world fell silent. There were no more screams. No more running. Just Minho, coming back to himself and finding himself soaked with blood, bodies laying around him. He jumped to his feet, suddenly unstable despite feeling the strongest he had in years. All of them were dead. He had killed them all.

He backed away, horrified with himself. What had he _done_? He had just killed innocent people just for the fun of it.

No—no, he hadn’t. These people were not innocent. They would have killed the thief had Minho not stopped them. It was not for _fun_. It was to protect the thief.

The thief.

Minho whirled around, his eyes going to the body of the thief. The thief was sitting up now, staring at the scene in horror. His eyes met Minho’s.

Minho moved forward, and the thief tensed. But Minho just effortlessly scooped him up, bridal-style, and carried him back to the mansion.

He carried him right through the front door, up the stairs, and into one of the guest bedrooms. He set him on the bed before leaving again, going back downstairs where he still had a bowl of water set out from his cleaning spree. It was mostly fresh, so Minho took it and a handful of clean cloth up to the guest bedroom. The thief hadn’t budged in the slightest. Minho pulled up a chair next to the bed, dipped one of the cloths in the water, and got to work.

The thief jerked backwards when Minho brought the damp cloth to his face. Minho paused for a moment, waiting for the thief to shove him away and scream in his face or maybe try to attack him too. But when the thief just stared at him, Minho started moving again. This time, the thief didn’t try to stop him. He just stared at Minho as Minho cleaned the blood and dirt from his face and throat.

“Where else are you hurt?” Minho asked once the blood was gone. He didn’t rinse the cloth off in the bowl. He set the bloodied cloth to the side and picked up a new one that he dipped in clean water. He looked back at the thief, who was still just _staring_ at him.

“Hey,” Minho said softly, causing the thief to snap out of his shock for a moment. “Are you hurt?”

Slowly, the thief shook his head. Minho didn’t really trust that, though.

“Can I check?” Minho pointed at the thief’s shirt.

Slowly again, the thief nodded.

Minho waited a brief moment before carefully unbuttoning the thief’s coat and pulling it off. He set it aside for now as he studied the dirty shirt underneath, which he figured was at one point starch white. There were no blood stains in it, thankfully, but that didn’t ease Minho’s worries. He unbuttoned that shirt too and pushed it off, now studying the thief’s bare torso for any sign of injury.

He had some bruised ribs. Minho ran his fingers over the ridges, causing the thief to wince, but Minho didn’t feel any broken bones. He checked his shoulder next, which he knew for a fact had gotten a rock smashed into it. There was a nasty bruise there too, but other than that, it seemed fine. Not shattered or dislocated or anything.

“You’re lucky,” Minho said. He looked up at the thief, who was just staring, staring, staring. His face was so blank, though, that Minho couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling. He was clearly still in shock.

“Did you hit your head?” Minho asked, now reaching up to feel around the thief’s skull for any bumps. Again, by another stroke of luck, he found none. Most of the damage was just on the face, then. A pity, in Minho’s opinion.

“You seem fine,” Minho said, withdrawing. “You should try to rest. Then you should leave. They’ll probably come looking for me in a few days.” His face fell as he remembered all the destruction he had caused. “You don’t want them to find you too.”

The thief blinked in surprise when Minho stood up. Minho could feel his eyes on him still as he picked up the dirty cloths and bowl of water and quickly left the room. He went down the hall, to his room, and shut and locked it behind him. But instead of crossing to his chair like usual, he just stood there, thinking about what he had done. He had saved the thief, yes, but had brutally killed in the process. And he had loved it. He had loved the screams and the taste of blood and everything. It was only when he snapped out of it that he had been horrified at what he had done.

Tears burned Minho’s eyes as he cringed.

He really was a monster.

The bowl fell from his hands and shattered on the floor. Minho didn’t even notice. He was too distracted by the blood roaring in his ears, the terrified screams of the men he’d killed echoing in his head.

They echoed over and over again until Minho collapsed to the floor, clutching the sides of his head, hot tears spilling down his cheeks.

He didn’t move from that position all night.

*

Morning came. Minho finally dragged himself up from the floor and over to the window. He sat there, watching. It would probably take a day for the town to find the bodies of the men. Possibly another day to figure it out. By that second night, they’d be out in full force.

Minho wanted to think he was ready for them. But he wasn’t. He was terrified. And yet he could do nothing but wait. There was nowhere for him to go. Nowhere he could go where this wouldn’t repeat itself.

Besides, he now deserved whatever cruel death they had for him. He really was a monster.

A knock on the door made him jump. He turned to look at it, like someone would suddenly knock it down and come charging in. None of that happened, of course, except the doorknob did twist.

Minho waited for a voice or another knock, but there was none. Just…footsteps, walking away from the door. Good.

He stood at that window all day. Watching. Waiting.

That night, there was another knock on his door. This time, when Minho didn’t respond, a voice came.

“I know you’re in there.” The thief. Still here? Why? “And I’d just like to point out that I _can_ pick locks.”

When Minho didn’t respond, the doorknob jiggled and twisted before clicking unlocked. Minho arched an eyebrow as the door swung open, and there stood the thief, still bruised but otherwise okay. He raised his eyebrows at Minho.

“What,” Minho asked, his voice raspy. He cringed at the sound of it. “What do you want?”

“Did you break something?” The thief looked down at the shattered bowl. “Clumsy.”

Minho scowled. “If you’re just here to insult me, just leave. I don't want to hear it.” He turned away.

“Suit yourself.” The thief walked away, but he left the door wide open.

Minho shook his head. The thief shouldn’t be here. He should leave. Go to a new town. Get a fresh start. There was no point in staying in this crumbling mansion that would most likely be nothing but ashes in a couple of days.

A few minutes passed before Minho heard footsteps, and then the thief was back again. This time, he had a bowl of water in his hands, as well as a couple of clean rags. Minho frowned at the sight.

“Sit down,” the thief said, completely unfazed as he walked into the room. When Minho just stood there, the thief nodded pointedly at Minho’s favorite chair. “ _Sit_.”

Minho, for reasons he really didn’t understand, obeyed. The thief sat in the other cushioned chair and set the bowl of water on the table, next to the record player. Then he got to work in dunking the rag in the water, wringing it out, and pressing it up to Minho’s face.

Minho couldn’t help jumping in surprise, mostly at the thief’s touch. Even though the thief fastened a firm grip on the back of Minho’s neck to keep him still, his touch was otherwise soft and gentle. He was thorough in cleaning off all the dried blood from Minho’s face and throat and chest.

“There,” the thief said, tossing the dirty rag onto the table. “All clean. Except for the shirt. You should probably change. But I’m not going to do that for you.”

Minho just stared at him. The thief stared back, still completely unfazed.

Then Minho blurted, “Why are you here?”

When the thief just arched an eyebrow, Minho added, “You should leave.”

“Why?” the thief asked.

“It’s not safe here,” Minho said.

“You’re suddenly very concerned about my safety. Quite a change from when you threatened to kill me if I ever stepped foot in here again.”

Minho had threatened to do that, hadn’t he. He looked away.

When Minho didn’t say anything, the thief’s expression softened. “Why did you do it?” he asked.

“Kill those men, you mean?” Minho asked bitterly.

“No, I know why you did that,” the thief said. “I mean—why did you save my life? You could have just let them kill me. But you didn’t. Why?”

Minho just shrugged. He didn’t know. Not really.

“I’m especially confused as to why you decided it would be a good idea to pretend to bite me,” the thief continued.

“I was trying to make it look like I had killed you,” Minho said.

“Again— _why_?”

“So they would think you were dead and leave you alone.”

“Well, that’s nice, but pointless now that they’re all dead.”

Minho winced at that, his mind oh-so-helpfully reminding him of the horrors of that night. “I was just trying to scare them off. Nothing more.”

“Uh huh,” the thief said. “Ripping their throats out would definitely do the trick.”

“I didn’t _mean to_ ,” Minho snapped. “I wouldn’t have done anything if they hadn’t pulled the gun.”

“And shot you repeatedly,” the thief said. His face once again softened as he said, “Are you okay?”

Minho shrugged. “They weren’t silver bullets. I’m fine. I was more worried about you. I can survive getting shot, but you can’t.” He fell silent for a few moments before he murmured, “That’s what made me snap. I thought they had shot you.”

The thief arched an eyebrow at him. “Once again I’m confused as to _why_ you went out of your way to make sure I was okay. I’m just some piece of shit thief who, may I remind you, stole from you repeatedly and threw garlic powder and holy water I your face. Why save me?”

“I guess we’ll never know,” Minho said, turning away. “You should leave.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

Of course Minho didn’t. But it was for the thief’s safety.

Once again Minho stayed silent for too long, so the thief said, “They’re not going to come for you.”

“You don’t know that,” Minho said.

“No, really, they won’t. Those men you killed? They were thieves and murderers and criminals too. They were in a gang. No one is going to miss those guys. If anything, the town will be grateful you got rid of them for them.”

Minho didn’t believe that for a minute, but he asked anyways, “Why were they after you?”

“Oh, you know.” The thief shrugged and sighed. “Stole from them. They’ve hated me for a long time anyways. It was only a matter of time before they finally snapped and killed me for it.” He sighed again, his face falling. “I thought I could outrun them. Thought if I came here, they’d get too scared and stop following me. I knew you’d probably kill me if I tried to come in, so I just planned to hide on your property for a night or two before leaving. I never thought you’d…that you’d…y’know.”

“You never thought I’d turn into some bloodthirsty monster,” Minho finished for him. “I get it.”

“No,” the thief said. “I never thought you’d help me. But, I guess…yeah, I never really thought you’d kill them too. Never thought you had it in you.”

Minho didn’t look at him. He knew he’d just see fear and hatred in the thief’s eyes.

“My name’s Hyunjin, by the way,” the thief said. “Hwang Hyunjin. Thought you should know.”

Minho wanted to tell him his name too, but he knew the thief— _Hyunjin_ —didn’t really care. Minho was still just a monster to him. Monsters didn’t get names. So he stayed silent.

That is, until Hyunjin piped up, “What’s your name?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Minho said. “You don’t need it. You’ll be leaving soon anyways.”

“I still want your name,” Hyunjin said. “Unless you just want me to call you ‘vampire’ all the time?”

Minho definitely did not want that. So he sighed and said softly, “Minho.”

“Minho,” Hyunjin repeated. “Lee Minho?”

Minho looked up in surprise. Hyunjin smiled, a bit sheepishly.

“It’s just—on the painting, it says ‘The Lee Family,’ so…” Hyunjin trailed off again.

“Oh,” is all Minho said.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin said.

They stayed silent for a few moments, avoiding each other’s gaze. Minho stared out the window, still waiting for the townspeople to come. He didn’t believe Hyunjin when he said they wouldn’t come. He knew humans. He knew how they would treat monsters like him. He had to be prepared.

Then Hyunjin spoke again.

“I’m sorry, by the way.” His voice was soft, barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry I stole from you. And threw garlic powder and holy water in your face. And shot you that one time. And used a crucifix on you. You’re really…you’re not the only monster here.”

“You broke my window, too,” Minho said.

Hyunjin looked up with wide eyes at that.

Minho smirked. “And tried to steal my grandmother’s portrait after I told you not to.”

“I just wanted the frame,” Hyunjin said. “Not the portrait. Besides, I thought you…I thought you were gone.”

“No, I just didn’t want to talk to you,” Minho said, looking away again.

“That’s fair,” Hyunjin said.

“I accept your apology, though,” Minho said. “You were just doing what you needed to survive. And I _am_ some blood-sucking monster. You were trying to protect yourself.”

“No, I was just downright cruel.”

“Well, I didn’t want to say that, but yes, you were.”

“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin whispered.

“I forgive you,” Minho said, only to wonder if he was going to regret that.

Hyunjin just nodded and stared down at his hands again. Minho waited for him to say, _Psych!_ and then laugh in his face and proceed to stab him through the heart with a wooden stake, but Hyunjin didn’t. He just sat there, looking troubled.

“That’s it?” Minho arched an eyebrow. Hyunjin looked up at him. “You’re not going to laugh in my face and call me names?”

Hyunjin frowned for a moment before seeming to remember. “Oh. That. Right.”

Minho waited, and Hyunjin finally sighed.

“That was pretty shitty of me too, wasn’t it,” Hyunjin said. “I guess, in my defense, I didn’t think you had feelings.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “You still don’t think I have feelings.”

“No, I do.”

Minho just gave him an unamused look.

“I do!” Hyunjin insisted. “It’s because you saved my life _and_ took care of me afterwards. I know it doesn’t mean much, but thank you. I owe you.”

“No, you don’t.” Minho looked away.

“No, really.” Hyunjin sat forward. “I owe you my life. I know it’s not worth much, but I’ll do anything to pay you back. Anything.”

“Anything?” Minho raised his eyebrows.

Regret flashed in Hyunjin’s eyes, but he clenched his jaw and nodded. “Anything. I’ll let you drink all the blood out of me, if you want. I’ll let you torture me as payback for all those times I stole from you, or you can turn me in, or even use me however you want.” His face paled a few shades before he added, “That’s what vampires always want when they kidnap young, beautiful people, right? They want to use them as some sort of…slave.”

“What?” Minho looked appalled. “What the— _no_! I’m not—I’m not going to use you as some sort of _sex slave_ , dear _God_!”

“You’re not?” Hyunjin looked confused.

“ _No_ ,” Minho said firmly. “I don’t want your life debt. You’re free to do whatever you want, I don’t care. Leave, stay, I don’t care.”

“You don’t even want to drink my blood as payment?”

“I’ve had quite enough blood to last me a year, thank you.”

Hyunjin looked somewhat disgusted at that, but he shook that thought out of his head and said, “Okay, fine. But there has to be _something_ you want in return for saving my life. That’s only fair.”

What did Minho want? Oh, yes, a companion. But there was no way he was going to make this thief stay here and be his companion if the thief was just going to be miserable. Minho only wanted him to stay out of his own free will.

But what else did he want?

“I suppose…” Minho took a deep breath. “If you _have_ to pay me back…I could use some new records.”

Hyunjin blinked. “That’s it?”

Minho nodded.

“You just want…music?”

“Yes.” Minho sighed. “I’ve been listening to the same five records for the past decade. I’d like something new. Something without lyrics, preferably.”

Hyunjin snorted. “Not in the mood to listen to love songs anymore, huh?”

“Some Mozart would be nice,” Minho said. “Or Beethoven. Or even some swing music.”

“Okay, the Mozart and Beethoven I would expect from an old, stuffy vampire. But swing? Seriously?”

Minho scowled. “I’m not _that_ old.”

“Oh yeah?” Hyunjin arched an eyebrow. “When were you turned? Sixteen hundreds? Maybe seventeen hundreds?”

“About ten years ago,” Minho replied, a bit smugly.

Hyunjin blinked, then frowned. “Wait, really?”

Minho nodded. “This really is my house. I’ve lived here all my life. All twenty-two years—oh wait, thirty-two. I still feel twenty-two. I suppose I’m really thirty-two at this point.”

“Wow,” Hyunjin said. “Still old.”

Minho sneered at him, and Hyunjin sneered back, then laughed. But this time, it didn’t sound like he was laughing at Minho. It sounded like he was just…laughing.

When was the last time Minho laughed? He honestly couldn’t remember.

“Alright,” Hyunjin said. “Records. I can deal with that. Though, I might need to lie low for a bit.” He paused for a moment before asking quietly, “Can…can I stay here?”

Minho sighed. A week ago, he’d be thrilled to hear Hyunjin ask him this. Now…he knew it didn’t really mean anything. But he still said, “As long as you need to.”

Hyunjin sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

“However,” Minho said, making Hyunjin tense, “there need to be some ground rules first.”

“Okay…” Hyunjin eyed him warily.

“One.” Minho held up a finger. “This is my house. I get to make the rules. My word is final.”

“You sound like a father, but okay,” Hyunjin said.

“Two.” Minho held up a second finger. “There will be no stealing, no rearranging, no otherwise destructive behaviors. This house is already in bad shape and is, as you so lovingly called it at one point, a shithole, but it’s my shithole, so I’d like to keep it from deteriorating further.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Hyunjin said quickly.

“I don’t care,” Minho said. “Three—stay out of my room and my parents’ room. If I see you taking my mother’s jewels again, I’m going to lock you in the cellar. And, just to make things clear, I haven’t gone down to the servant’s quarters in the lowest level of the house for the past ten years. I’ll leave it up to your imagination to decide what’s down there.”

Hyunjin’s eyes had gone wide at that.

“Four,” Minho started, only to think to himself. “Actually, maybe we’ll just stick with three. I have full right to add more rules as I see fit.” He crossed his arms.

“Okay,” Hyunjin said. “Those are…reasonable. What about money? Because clearly you don’t need to eat, but I do. And I can’t get food without money. Well, actually, I _can_ get food, but I’m under the assumption here that my former way of life isn’t welcome here. So…food.”

“You can always hunt,” Minho said. “There are rabbits and deer around here.”

“Yeah, um…about that…I’ve never hunted a day in my life. I’m a city slicker.”

Minho sighed. “I’ll handle the food.”

“Great.” Hyunjin smiled, only for that smile to vanish a moment later as he said, “Wait, that’s not code for you biting me and turning me into a vampire so I only need blood to survive, right?”

“I suppose that’s another thing we should discuss,” Minho said. “I will never bite you. Last night was…an anomaly. I never intend to lose control like that again. Or to ever turn anyone.”

“If you don’t bite people then how do you survive? Where do you get the blood?”

Minho shrugged. “Animals. I just need it every few months, too.”

“Hmm.” Hyunjin studied him for a few moments, but then shrugged. “Alright. I promise never to throw any kind of vampire repellant at you, then.” He smiled.

Minho snorted at that. “Glad we have that sorted.”

Hyunjin smiled at him, and Minho felt it in his chest for a brief moment. It wasn’t fair that this damn thief could still be so beautiful even when his face was ten different colors and swollen.

“Welp.” Hyunjin stood. “Good talk. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to try to sleep and to not think about whatever is in the basement. Goodnight.”

Minho couldn’t help smiling to himself as he watched the thief walk out of the room, only for Hyunjin to poke his head back in a moment later.

“Do you sleep?” Hyunjin asked with a frown.

“Yes,” Minho said.

“Oh,” Hyunjin said. “Do you _need_ to sleep?”

“No, but I like sleep, so I sleep anyways.”

“Oh.” Hyunjin thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “Cool. Goodnight!”

“Goodnight,” Minho said, back to smiling to himself.

Maybe letting the thief stay wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

*

Living with another person was…good, actually. The mansion was big enough that Minho and Hyunjin could avoid each other all day if they needed to, and for the first few days, that’s exactly what they did. Or, that’s what Minho did. He avoided Hyunjin. He didn’t know why, exactly. He used to be so confident and sure of himself before he was a vampire. But now…just the thought of facing Hyunjin more often and making small talk terrified him. He kept waiting to trip up and for Hyunjin to turn on him. But that couldn’t happen if Minho kept to himself.

Besides, he had been keeping to himself for the past ten years. It was a difficult habit to break.

However, after the third or fourth day of avoiding Hyunjin, Hyunjin came looking for him.

Minho, naturally, was in his room, staring out the window since he still hadn’t shaken that fear of the townspeople coming for him. He didn’t bother locking the door anymore, since Hyunjin made it clear that locks did nothing to keep him out, but at least Hyunjin knocked before he came in.

Minho turned at the sound of the knock followed by the door opening. Hyunjin looked in and smirked.

“Still brooding at the window?” Hyunjin said, stepping inside and positioning himself like he was trying to hide something behind his back. Minho seriously hoped it wasn’t some “vampire repellant” or even a wooden stake.

“Perhaps,” Minho admitted. He jerked his chin at him. “What do you have?”

Hyunjin smiled. “Guess.”

Minho sighed. “Garlic powder?”

“Nope.”

“Holy water?”

“Try again.”

“A wooden stake?”

Hyunjin gave him a look. “You think so low of me.”

Minho just shrugged.

“It’s none of those things,” Hyunjin said. “It’s—” he held it out in front of him, “—new records! Ta-daaa, just like you asked.”

Minho just blinked at the sight of the records in Hyunjin’s hands. He would have been happy with just one new record, but it looked like there were at least _three_. Maybe even _five_.

“How…?” Minho looked up at Hyunjin.

Hyunjin shrugged. “I have my ways.”

“You stole them.”

“Shhh.” Hyunjin put a finger to his lips before walking over to the record player. “Which one do you want first? Something light? Or something punchy and fun to kind of shake things up a bit?”

“I don’t know.” Minho allowed himself to step closer to look over Hyunjin’s shoulder at the records. “You pick.”

“Swing it is.” Hyunjin put on the record and smiled.

Minho didn’t look at him as the music started to play. It was so different than his other music. So unpredictable and loud and _fun_. It had the capability to make Minho want to move, to dance, but he clamped down that desire. He hadn’t danced in years. It had stopped becoming fun when he realized he’d never have anyone to dance with.

“What,” Hyunjin said when Minho didn’t react. “Don’t like it?”

“No, I do,” Minho said.

“Then why so glum? You can’t be glum when you’re listening to this. It chases all the bad thoughts away.” Hyunjin smiled, already swaying a bit on his feet. “If it doesn’t make you want to dance a little, then there’s something seriously wrong with you.”

“Maybe I just don’t like dancing,” Minho fired back.

“Doubtful,” Hyunjin said. “You wouldn’t ask for swing music if you didn’t like to let loose and move a little. So, come on, move.”

Minho shook his head.

“Come on.” Hyunjin grinned. “Loosen up, you stuffy old bat.”

“The fuck did you just call me?”

“Oh, the stuffy old bat has a mouth on him.”

“You’ll want to refrain from calling me that.”

“Or what?” Hyunjin raised his eyebrows at him, still smirking. “You’ll throw me in the cellar?”

Minho sighed but said, “I haven’t danced in years. I especially haven’t danced with someone else in…years.” He looked away.

“Excuses,” Hyunjin said.

Minho looked back at him. “What?”

“Excuses.” Hyunjin shrugged. “Just dance. It’s not something you grow out of. Everybody dances. Even stuffy old bats like you.” He grinned.

Minho couldn’t help grinning too, though it was somewhat of a snarl. “Oh, I swear I’m going to kill you one day.”

“Maybe.” Hyunjin shrugged again. “But first you owe me a dance.” He held out his hand.

Minho almost rolled his eyes and took his hand, but then he had a sudden irrational fear that Hyunjin was going to pull him close just to stab him with a silver blade he had concealed in his sleeve, and suddenly he couldn’t move. He could do nothing but stand there and stare at him.

Hyunjin noticed his hesitation and frowned. Before he could say anything, though, Minho turned away and stopped the music. Hyunjin stayed silent as Minho quickly switched to one of his older, more familiar records. Once those first few notes started to play, Minho felt like he could finally breathe again.

“You overthink too much,” Hyunjin said.

Minho didn’t respond, mostly because he was already overthinking his response. He already knew he had stayed silent for too long and that Hyunjin was going to roll his eyes and probably give some scathing remark before walking out of the room. He waited for it.

Instead, Hyunjin sighed and sat down in the other cushioned chair. “Is this what you used to do all the time? Just sit and stare out the window while listening to sad love songs?”

“Not always,” Minho admitted, sitting down in his own chair.

“What changed?”

“It got boring.”

Hyunjin snorted and raised an eyebrow. “And _this_ isn’t boring to you?”

Minho didn’t have an answer to that, so he just opted for a noncommittal shrug.

“You need a hobby,” Hyunjin said.

“So do you,” Minho shot back. Not the best comeback, but it was better than staying silent.

“I have plenty of hobbies.”

“Is that so?”

“As a matter of fact, it is.”

Minho snorted. “Stealing things and annoying me are not hobbies.”

“Well, not with that attitude, they aren’t.” Hyunjin grinned. “I guess you can say that staring out the window and brooding and avoiding any kind of interaction aren’t hobbies either.”

“I clean,” Minho retorted.

“Uh huh,” Hyunjin said.

“And I smoke and drink and listen to music. Those are hobbies.”

“Not really.” Hyunjin gave him a look, then sighed and threw himself back into his chair. “I think of hobbies as something that you _create_.”

“Well, then, dancing isn’t a hobby by that logic.”

“You’re wrong—dancing creates connections and happiness between people. Not to mention how it creates healthier people because it’s a workout.” Hyunjin smirked, smug. “I never said they have to create something _tangible_.”

Minho arched an eyebrow. “Fine, then smoking is a hobby because it creates smoke in the air.”

“Smoking is bad for you. Doesn’t count.”

“I’m a vampire—it can’t hurt me.”

“Smoking doesn’t count,” Hyunjin repeated, this time a bit louder. “Find something else to do with your time. You literally have all the time in the world and you’re sitting here in this house doing _nothing_.”

“There’s no need to shout,” Minho said.

Hyunjin huffed at that. “You do realize that people would _kill_ to be immortal?”

“Why do you think I’m hiding away in this house?” Minho scoffed. Hyunjin raised an eyebrow at that, and Minho looked away.

A few moments of silence went by before Hyunjin said, “You still need a hobby.”

“Drop it already.”

“You know what I’ve always wanted to do?”

“Oh, please, enlighten me.”

Despite the sarcasm in Minho’s tone, Hyunjin said, “I’ve always wanted to paint.”

Minho frowned. He didn’t expect Hyunjin to give a genuine answer.

“I think, in another life, I would have been an artist,” Hyunjin said, his eyes growing distant. He ended up staring down at his hands. “Seems respectable. More respectable than a thief, anyway.”

“So why don’t you,” Minho said, making Hyunjin look up at him. Minho shrugged. “Why don’t you just…paint?”

“I don’t have supplies,” Hyunjin said.

“So? When has _not having_ something ever stopped you?”

Hyunjin shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t…I don’t want to _steal_ supplies. That seems…counterproductive. I guess…I guess I never actually stole any supplies because I wanted to be able to buy them with my own money. The day I buy some art supplies with my own money, that’s a sign. I’ve made it.”

Minho just stared at him, shocked. Hyunjin had really just…opened up to him? Minho didn’t understand—but then he remembered the last time Hyunjin had supposedly “opened up” to him and had promptly laughed in his face a moment later. This must just be another lie.

“What,” Hyunjin said when Minho kept staring at him with a blank expression. Then he sighed and said, “Ah, I get it. You don’t care. After all, I’m supposed to leave soon anyways, right? Yeah…” He stared back down at his hands.

Minho wanted to say that he did care, but then he had to think for a moment. Did he care? Did he really care about Hyunjin as a person? Or did he just care because Hyunjin… _was_ a person?

He didn’t care about Hyunjin for Hyunjin. He just cared to an extent because Hyunjin was a person. That was all.

His silence apparently was all Hyunjin needed.

“I see,” Hyunjin said softly. He took a deep breath and stood. “Well…”

Minho looked up at him, waiting for Hyunjin to finish speaking, but he didn’t. Instead, he just lowered his head and walked out of the room.

Minho missed him the moment he was alone again, but again, he didn’t miss _Hyunjin_. He just missed the company.

That revelation just made him hate himself all the more.

*

Since Minho apparently didn’t have a hobby, he decided to find one. But not one outside of the house, no, no, no. It _was_ the house. He was picking back up on his cleaning and renovations. Next step—replacing all of the old, deteriorating aspects.

By the time the sun filled the foyer that morning, Minho was in the middle of ripping out the baseboards and promptly coughing when dust and mold spores blew up into his face. He waved the clouds away and tossed the board into a pile in the middle of the foyer, the sound echoing.

He had a plan—remove everything that was gross and moldy first, then find a way to replace it all. He wasn’t sure if new wallpaper was a good idea. So maybe he’d just paint the walls.

“What in God’s name are you _doing_ this early in the morning?”

Minho didn’t even turn to look at Hyunjin, who was most likely leaning on the railing at the top of the stairs. “Renovating. How’s that for a hobby?”

“I feel like ninety-percent of your motivation comes from spite,” Hyunjin said.

Minho just shrugged and ripped out the next baseboard, which was so warped from water and mold that a section of it disintegrated.

“Okay, just saying, maybe _you_ can’t die from breathing in mold spores all day, but I definitely can,” Hyunjin said. “Can you cut it out?”

“Open a window,” Minho scoffed. “Or, you know, you could help.”

“No, you’ve made it quite clear that this is _your_ hobby, so I think I’ll just begin a new hobby of my own and watch you.”

“That’s not creepy at all.” Minho couldn’t help smirking. “Though, I’ll let you know that I don’t plan on taking off my shirt, so that might discourage you from watching.”

He expected Hyunjin to scoff and protest that that wasn’t the reason he was watching, but when Hyunjin stayed silent for a moment, Minho glanced up at him.

He was pouting. Actually _pouting_.

“Well then what’s the point.” Hyunjin slouched against the railing.

Minho rolled his eyes, though that did boost his mood just a little bit. So Hyunjin _did_ like to stare at him sometimes. At least all of the effort Minho put into his appearance didn’t go to complete waste.

“What’s your plan once you gut your entire house?” Hyunjin asked instead.

“Replace it all,” Minho replied.

“Uh huh. And how do you expect to do that when you can’t even set foot outside?”

“I’ve thought about that, actually. Remember how you said you owed me a life debt?”

Hyunjin caught on _immediately_. “Nope, nope—you said I could pay you back by getting you new records. I did that. You can’t ask me to do anything more.”

“You’re right, I did say that,” Minho said. “ _But_ if this is going to be your chosen place of residence—no matter how temporarily—then the least you can do is make it habitable?”

“It has a roof over my head—that’s considerably more habitable than places I’ve lived in the past,” Hyunjin said dryly.

Minho gave him a look.

“You can pout at me all you want, I don’t see why you can’t get the guts to go to the closest village for once in your life,” Hyunjin said. “Aw, are you too scared? Is the great big vampire scared of a couple of measly humans?”

“Forget it,” Minho grumbled, turning away. “I’ll figure it out myself since _you’re_ no help.”

“Uh huh, you do that.”

Minho rolled his eyes.

He’d like to say that Hyunjin didn’t bother him throughout the rest of the day, but of course Hyunjin did. He followed him around and made little comments here and there. Most of them were harmless, but some of them made Minho want to throw something at him. Not that they were bad, they were just annoying. Hyunjin was annoying.

At one point, Minho just turned to Hyunjin after one of his stupid comments and said, “You are so lucky you’re pretty.”

“What?” Hyunjin blinked at him, completely caught off-guard. Minho just turned away and went back to tearing wallpaper off the wall. “Hold on, did you just say I’m _pretty_?”

“Pretty annoying,” Minho said.

“Well as long as you don’t see me as _just_ pretty…” Hyunjin grumbled and folded his arms tightly across his chest.

“Why? Don’t like being called pretty?”

“I don’t like being _just_ pretty. There’s a difference.” Hyunjin looked away.

Minho decided not to press on that and continued on with destroying the house.

By late afternoon, the entire house was gutted of rotted materials. All the baseboards, wallpaper, and floors and carpets in some areas were gone. It left it feeling even more desolate and empty than before.

Minho piled it all in the back garden and lit it up. Hyunjin stood next to him, watching the blaze.

“Do vampires really light up like dry kindling if you set them on fire?” Hyunjin asked out of the blue.

“I don’t know and I don’t care to know,” Minho replied. “Let’s just say that anyone and anything can burn. Vampires are no exception.”

With that, they fell silent again until the fire was reduced to ash.

*

The next day brought the next step of the renovation, and a new challenge: replacing everything. And of course, Minho didn’t have the skills to replace everything. He would need hired help if he wanted to truly return the mansion to its former glory. Or just to make it habitable again.

That meant, unfortunately, going into town.

“It can’t be _that_ bad,” Hyunjin said. “I know that town like the back of my hand. We can go together.”

“What if someone recognizes me?” Minho looked at him with wide eyes. “They’ll immediately know something is off. If they don’t figure out I’m a vampire, they’ll at least think I’m some sort of demon or ghost or something equally awful.”

“It’s a big town,” Hyunjin said. “They won’t recognize you. And if they do, well, make something up. Improvise. Think on your feet.”

“You’re the liar here, not me.”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “I’m not saying to lie to their faces outright. Everyone knows the key to a good lie is a little kernel of truth. So, give a little bit of truth and then, y’know, exaggerate the rest. Easy.” He shrugged.

Minho sighed but nodded anyways. “Alright. I can do this.”

“Yeah, that’s the spirit! Let’s get going.”

“No.”

“What?” Hyunjin looked at him in confusion.

“We’re not going _today_ ,” Minho said, looking at him like he was insane. “That’s too soon. I need an entire day just to mentally prepare myself.”

Hyunjin arched an eyebrow but said, “What, and I suppose you need an entire day just to pick out an outfit too, huh?”

“I didn’t even think about that.” Minho groaned. “All of my clothes are old and outdated. I’ll stick out like a sore thumb!”

“You’re worried about being _fashionable_?”

“Of course I am—look at me!”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “Just—wear a button-up shirt, a jacket, pants, and some shoes. Not fancy shoes—just _shoes_. And no makeup.” He pointed a finger at his face sternly.

Minho frowned. “Why not?”

“Well, to put it lightly, you don’t want to make people think you’re a prostitute.”

“That’s what I look like?” Minho couldn’t help feeling appalled and a little wounded. He always thought he looked stunning in makeup. He was gifted with exceptional features anyways, but makeup truly had the capability to make him appear other-worldly.

“No, you really do look like a stereotypical vampire who tries to lure young women to his mansion,” Hyunjin said, his eyebrows set in a straight line. “Dark clothes, pale skin, red lips, effortlessly tousled hair—yeah, you’re definitely going for that sexy vampire vibe.”

There was a lot in that, but all Minho managed to take away from it was, “You think I’m sexy?”

“Oh, boy.” Hyunjin just groaned and walked away.

The next day, however, Minho did get manage to choose a suitable outfit. And he gathered enough courage to step outside the mansion. It was a beautiful day—the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and there was just enough of a breeze to keep the heat from becoming too stifling. A perfect day to go to town.

“Alright, it’s pretty, I get it, let’s get a move on,” Hyunjin said impatiently.

Minho nodded and took a step away from the door, only to remember the last time he stepped away from the mansion. It ended in a bloodbath. That promptly sucked away all of his confidence and caused his fears to come rushing back. He whirled around and ran back into the house.

Hyunjin groaned. “You know, it’d be cute if you were younger, but as an immortal vampire, this is just _sad_.”

“You don’t understand what I’m going through!” Minho snapped.

“Oh, I don’t, do I?” Hyunjin said. “After all, what does an orphaned thief know about being afraid to go into a town that has done nothing but spit in his face and kick him to the curb and threaten to kill him left and right? Surely he knows _nothing_ about what it’s like to fear for his own life or to be so terrified from something that he feels like throwing up or passing out or running away. Nah, he doesn’t know what that’s like at all!”

Minho fell silent, mostly because he had no idea that Hyunjin was an orphan.

“But you know what happens if we don’t go to town?” Hyunjin continued. “We die. Well, maybe you won’t die _physically_. But you’ll die on the inside. You’ll just continue to sit up here in your big, empty house and rot away, like you’ve been doing all along. That is, unless you get your stuffy vampire ass out here and just _get it over with_.”

There was a beat of silence, broken only by Hyunjin sucking in a deep breath from his sudden monologue. Then Minho peeked through the doorway at him.

“I didn’t know you were an orphan,” Minho said softly.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes and turned away. “Are you coming or not?”

Minho took a deep breath and nodded. He stepped out onto the front steps, closed the door behind him, and joined Hyunjin at the base, on the gravel road that would lead away from the safety of the mansion and into the unknown of the town.

Maybe Hyunjin was right. Minho overthought too much.

The important thing was, they started walking. All Minho focused on was putting one foot in front of the other. Before he knew it, he was at the end of the road of the mansion, right by the massive iron gates that sealed off the estate from the rest of the world. Beyond that gate, there was a cobblestone road lined with trees that led to the edge of the town.

Hyunjin pushed open the gates and held it open for Minho. Minho stepped through and tried to suppress the thoughts that might lead to a panic attack. They weren’t even in town yet, but he was off his property for the first time in over a decade. It felt…weird. But Minho could handle this.

Hyunjin didn’t say anything as they walked into town, though he did look at Minho for his reaction when they first saw people walking down the street towards them. It was just a woman running errands, completely unbothered by their presence, but it still gave Minho a mild heart attack when she glanced at them. Then she smiled and said, “Good morning.”

“Just keep walking,” Hyunjin mumbled.

“Good morning,” Minho said to the woman, smiling back (without teeth, of course). They both went on their way, but Minho felt a little lighter just from that small interaction. Maybe people weren’t so bad.

People really _weren’t_ so bad. When they got to the busier parts of town, like the town square, with all of the shops open and everyone coming and going, Minho’s fears had subsided substantially. People either ignored them or glanced at them and smiled politely. Minho always smiled politely back, while Hyunjin just gave a stiff smile and kept his head lowered.

“This isn’t so bad,” Minho said. “It’s not much different from what I remember. We used to walk along the markets and stop for tea in that café over there. Or, my valet and I used to. My parents rarely came with me. My mother was even more of a homebody than I was, surprisingly, and my father was always away on business.”

“Poor you,” Hyunjin deadpanned.

“The housekeeper’s family actually ran a bakery over here,” Minho said as though Hyunjin hadn’t said anything. “I wonder if it’s still there!”

Hyunjin scowled and trudged after Minho like some kid being dragged along with his mother. Minho ignored him, too busy strolling down memory lane. He really didn’t see why he had been so afraid of coming to town. The people here had always been nice to him and his family. Granted, his parents weren’t the nicest people, but they weren’t outright _hated_. It would all be alright here.

Minho couldn’t help smiling when they walked down one of the streets off of the town square and saw the familiar sign of the bakery. “It’s still there!”

“Yep,” Hyunjin said.

“They made the _best_ pastries,” Minho said, sighing wistfully. “I could go for a pastry right about now. Come on.”

“Wait, hold on, we’re going _in_?” Hyunjin’s eyes widened as they stepped towards the bakery.

“Yeah, obviously,” Minho said. “You haven’t stolen from them before, have you?”

“Do you really want me to answer that? _Minho—_ ” Hyunjin hissed as Minho ignored him and walked right inside.

The smell of freshly-baked bread overtook Minho immediately, and he breathed in deeply. He loved that smell. It had been far too long since he had experienced it, too.

There were a couple of people in line in front of him, so he waited patiently, his eyes scanning the numerous baked goods behind the glass case of the counter. Hyunjin lurked at his side, his arms crossed tightly, his shoulders hunched, his head lowered.

“What do you want?” Minho asked him. “I was thinking of a cinnamon roll, to be honest.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Hyunjin was too busy glancing around the shop, like the kind-faced older woman being helped by the young woman behind the counter was going to pounce on him or something.

“Oh, but a cheese danish sounds delicious…” Minho trailed off, completely undecided. “Actually, why am I overthinking this? I’ll just get both. Easy.” He shrugged it off, smiling.

Hyunjin just sighed.

The young woman behind the counter blinked when Minho stepped up, as if momentarily caught-off guard. But then she blushed and smiled back when Minho smiled at her.

Minho ended up buying an entire bag of pastries, but that was fine with him, because they were a special treat. However, Hyunjin practically ran out of the bakery when they were finished and only gave Minho an exasperated look when Minho took his sweet ol’ time strolling out.

“Let me guess,” Minho said, “you’ve stolen from them?”

“ _Once_ ,” Hyunjin said. “It was a burned loaf of bread and I was hungry, okay?”

“Uh huh. Pastry?” Minho held out a danish, but Hyunjin smacked it away. Minho shrugged it off. “Suit yourself. More for me then.”

After the bakery, Minho’s fears vanished completely. He decided to take his time in exploring the town, much to Hyunjin’s annoyance. Minho went to the bookstore, to the furniture store, to the local gallery, to a boutique, and of course to all of the market stalls. Some of them sold unique artwork and pottery as well as fresh produce, so Minho _had_ to look around at least. He ended up buying bags of produce and made Hyunjin carry it, which Hyunjin complained about. But really, Minho was just doing this for him. After all, Hyunjin needed the food, not Minho.

He went easy on the new clothes—he just bought a few new shirts just to stay up to date in the fashion trends. Hyunjin, of course, rolled his eyes at that. Though, he did perk up a little bit when Minho went to the butcher and bought several expensive cuts of meat.

“Where do you expect to put all of this?” Hyunjin asked after they walked out of the butcher shop. “You don’t exactly have a refrigerator.”

“No, but I have an ice box,” Minho said.

“Yeah, with no ice,” Hyunjin said. “And the ice will melt by the time we walk all the way back. I’m already worried about this meat spoiling, to be honest.”

“Then I’ll just pay someone to deliver it,” Minho said.

Hyunjin sighed and said, “Minho. No one in their right mind is going to deliver to that mansion.”

“Oh.” Minho paused. In all honesty, he had forgotten who he was, which was a small miracle in itself. It was like it was ten years ago, when he was just some wealthy man’s son, shopping in the nearby town. He had never encountered these problems before and wasn’t entirely sure what to do.

Hyunjin must have seen Minho’s expression, because he sighed and said, “Come on. I know someone who can give us a ride. We can buy the ice and then just pray it doesn’t melt by the time he drives us up there.”

Minho nodded at that and let Hyunjin take the lead.

He went right to a repair shop, one that repaired wagons as well as automobiles, since they had become more common in the past few years. Minho’s family had automobiles, of course, but at the time, it had been a matter of status. Now, the more well-off folk had trucks and such to get around.

Hyunjin headed right to the garage of the shop, where a large, green truck was parked, the driver’s door open. “Hey, Mr. Kim!” Hyunjin called out.

“Mr. Kim?” Minho repeated softly, a face flashing in his head. Could it be the same Mr. Kim he knew…? No, there were probably many Mr. Kims in this town. He shook the thought out of his head.

A man leaned out of the driver’s seat, his eyebrows raised. When he saw Hyunjin grinning at him, he sighed. “I can’t believe you’re still alive,” he said, shaking his head.

“Aw, Mr. Kim, were you worried about me?” Hyunjin’s grin widened.

“You went missing for a week,” the man, Mr. Kim, said. “Not to mention how Bailey and his boys were after you. And then both you and them go missing all at once? We all assumed the worst.”

“Welp, I’m alive.” Hyunjin held out his arms. “And, I’m in need of a ride.”

Mr. Kim sighed, and Hyunjin immediately started talking again.

“Come on, please?” Hyunjin said. “I know I owe you, but I can pay you! Or, my friend can pay you. Right, Minho?”

Mr. Kim’s goodnatured smile faded at that.

“I can pay you, sir,” Minho said, stepping forward. He got his first good look at this Mr. Kim, and Mr. Kim did likewise. They both had the same expressions as they recognized each other instantly, their eyes going wide.

It _was_ the same Mr. Kim! The same butler from Minho’s house all those years ago.

“Good God,” Mr. Kim whispered, looking like he had seen a ghost. “Minho? Lee Minho? Is that really you?”

Minho swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, but he said, “Yes, Mr. Kim. It’s me.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened as he looked in between the two of them.

“But how…?” Mr. Kim looked him up and down. “You…your parents…”

“They died from an illness, as you know,” Minho said. “I survived, but I couldn’t stand to live in that house anymore. So I left. And now I’m back. I’m here to renovate the house, actually.”

“That house?” Mr. Kim was as pale as a sheet. “You know what they say about that house, Minho.”

“I do.” Minho smiled. “And I can assure you that it’s nothing more than the wind. It’s completely safe.”

“The most dangerous thing in there is the mold spores and the spiders,” Hyunjin added with a little laugh.

Mr. Kim looked at Hyunjin and frowned. “You’ve been there?”

“He’s helping me out,” Minho said.

“He is?” Mr. Kim looked back at Minho.

“He is,” Minho confirmed, with a little smile. “He’s actually been a huge help to me. He even told me that you’re the one who can give us a ride back to the house?”

Mr. Kim swallowed. “I can, but…I don’t go past the gate. I’m sorry, Minho, but in this town, no one goes near that house.”

“I understand,” Minho said. “To the gate will be just fine.”

“Load up, then.” Mr. Kim gestured to the back of the truck. Minho and Hyunjin wasted no time placing their things in the empty crates there. The three of them then got into the cab of the truck, with Hyunjin in the middle.

Mr. Kim, naturally, wanted to know what Minho had been up to in the past ten years. Minho glanced at Hyunjin before making up a story on the spot. He said he had gone to London to study and had been trained in music. He had just finished university, though, and had wanted to come back and see the house. And now he was here to fix it up to the best of his abilities.

“You don’t intend to _live_ there, do you?” Mr. Kim looked shocked.

“Why yes, yes I do,” Minho said. “It is my house and my estate, Mr. Kim.”

“It is, but…surely you’ve heard of the stories.”

“I have, and I’ve tried telling him, but he won’t listen,” Hyunjin said.

“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” Minho said.

“But there _are_ such things as vampires,” Hyunjin muttered. Minho shot him a look, and Hyunjin just smiled at him innocently.

“You can only be too careful, Minho,” Mr. Kim said.

Minho smiled. “Thank you for the warnings, Mr. Kim. And thank you for the ride as well. There is just one more thing I’d like to ask you—do you know of anyone who could help renovate the house? I can pay them, of course.”

Mr. Kim looked skeptical but sighed. “I know a few people. Not anyone who has worked for you or your family before, though. None of your former staff will go near the house.”

“That’s understandable,” Minho said. “Thank you again, Mr. Kim.”

Mr. Kim dropped them off by the gate but refused to accept the payment from Minho, telling him it was the least he could do. Minho smiled and thanked him once again.

As he and Hyunjin gathered up their things and turned towards the gate, though, Mr. Kim called out, “Minho?”

“Yes, Mr. Kim?” Minho turned.

Mr. Kim smiled warmly at him. “It’s good to see you.”

Minho smiled back. “And you as well.”

With that, Mr. Kim drove off.

Minho was still smiling as he and Hyunjin started the walk back up to the house. He was in such a good mood that he didn’t even realize Hyunjin was looking at him until they reached the front door.

“What?” Minho asked, raising his eyebrows at him.

“What really happened here?” Hyunjin asked. “To you, and your family? What happened that scared the staff so bad?”

Minho blinked a few times at him, surprised he would ask such a thing.

“I guess I just want to know…” Hyunjin swallowed, almost nervously. “How did you turn?”

Minho sighed, his good mood dissipating. “I wondered how long it would take you to ask me that.”

“I don’t expect you to tell me it without something in return,” Hyunjin said. “So…I’ll tell you my story if you tell me yours. That’s only fair, right?”

“Right.” Minho sighed again. “But I don’t think I can talk about that just yet.”

“Oh.” Hyunjin seemed almost disappointed.

“But soon,” Minho promised.

“Okay.” Hyunjin gave him a small smile. “Soon.”

Minho would have liked to sit there and smile at Hyunjin for a few minutes, but the ice was melting, and the meat was spoiling. So they rushed inside, where Minho went down to the kitchens to retrieve one of the smaller the ice boxes, since Hyunjin _refused_ to go down there. They managed to save the meat and ice just in time.

Later, that night, when the two of them were sitting in Minho’s room, listening to one of the new records, Minho said, “We’ll need to go back to town tomorrow. Find some people to hire.”

Hyunjin just hummed at that, his head tipped back, his eyes closed. It gave Minho a gorgeous view of his throat. Minho didn’t necessarily want to bite it, but he thought it would be nice to kiss it. Again, that was just his desperation and loneliness acting up, though today he was happy to say it was the weakest it had been in years. Hyunjin had been right—going into town really wasn’t that bad.

“Thank you,” Minho found himself saying.

Hyunjin lifted his head to look at him, confused. “For what?”

“For going with me,” Minho said. “For helping me. I couldn’t have done it without you. So, thank you.”

Hyunjin blinked at him, a blush creeping onto his face. Then he tilted his head back again and said, “Don’t mention it.”

Minho just smiled at that.

*

Mr. Kim, like he had promised, found people willing to work for Minho. And Minho found that there was just enough money locked away in the family safe to pay them all.

They got to work in renovating the house immediately, though Minho had done some of the work already. They estimated that it would take about eight weeks to replace the baseboards and flooring and roof. Then there was the matter of the electricity and the plumbing, which were clearly in bad shape. Together it would be costly, but worth it. This was Minho’s home, after all.

The workers worked from early in the morning until late in the afternoon, leaving before it got dark. They weren’t scared of the house, exactly, but they had heard the stories. None of them were taking any chances. In a way, Minho was grateful, because he got some time alone. It was a bit stressful, suddenly being around people all day. He was constantly worried about them discovering what he was, but so far, if they had noticed his slightly pointy teeth, they hadn’t commented on it. They were workers—as long as Minho paid them and gave them the weekends off, they were fine.

Naturally, rumors did begin to spread in the small town. This was to be expected, since the mansion had sat untouched and feared for so long, and especially since the rightful owner had “returned.” Everyone had their own theory as to what Minho had _really_ been doing overseas—some said he had a forbidden love affair, some said he was secretly a high-class thief who went on to steal greater things from the greater museums (Hyunjin was not amused by that, claiming Minho didn’t have even _half_ the skill for that), and some theorized that he had been sent away to study and earn a degree as part of his parents’ dying wish. Then, of course, there were the other theories that he had been the one to murder his parents and ran away to escape blame. Minho was the most worried about that one gaining traction, but luckily, it didn’t.

The townsfolk actually surprised Minho left and right with their kindness. They gave him the benefit of the doubt and moved on quickly. Most of them, from what Minho noticed, were just happy to have him there.

Although, they did go out of their way to make sure Minho knew who he was dealing with when it came to Hyunjin. About twenty individual people came up to Minho and said, “You _do_ know what he is, don’t you?”

At first, Minho said, “I do, and I don’t care. He’s changed for the better.” But later on, when they kept bugging him about it, talking about Hyunjin with such disgust, Minho decided to say, “Why, of course I do! He’s my best friend!”

Usually they would just look at him with pity, thinking him to be so unbearably naïve. Minho liked to give them the most innocent smile he could muster before excusing himself to go find Hyunjin.

Hyunjin always snorted whenever Minho told him about those people. “They’re right, you know,” he would say.

“No, I don’t know,” Minho would reply.

And Hyunjin would always say, “You’re an idiot, you know that? Calling me your best friend? Stupid. So stupid.”

And Minho would always shrug and say, “I’ve been called worse. And so have you.”

For some reason Hyunjin never had a clever comeback for that.

Hyunjin truly was a surprising character. Out of the eight weeks, he was the one who constantly caught Minho off-guard. Minho thought, at the beginning of the renovation, that Hyunjin would bail the first chance he got. It was the perfect time for him to disappear. And yet, instead, Hyunjin looked like he had plans to stick around. He was already picking out the furniture and paintings and wallpaper for his own room, despite never really consulting Minho about it prior to the actual renovation. Minho was, of course, surprised at first, but then pleased. If Hyunjin truly wanted to stay, then Minho would let him.

As the weeks went by, Minho started to realize just how attached he was to Hyunjin. Maybe he didn’t know all the details of Hyunjin’s past life. That didn’t matter to him anymore. He knew other things about Hyunjin, revealed in small amounts throughout the day.

He knew Hyunjin loved music just as much—if not _more_ than—Minho. He knew that Hyunjin liked to close his eyes to really focus on the emotion conveyed in the song and that he truly loved to dance but was too embarrassed to do so around Minho. Minho knew he still danced, though, because one morning Minho slipped downstairs to find Hyunjin humming to himself and dancing around the kitchen (yes, the servant’s kitchen, which Hyunjin was finally brave enough to go down into after they had thoroughly cleaned it out). He knew that Hyunjin, despite how the town saw him, had a sense of pride, and that he thought of himself as the best thief in the country.

He also knew that Hyunjin really wasn’t _just_ some rotten, shifty, untrustworthy thief—he was so much more than that, something Minho discovered with growing affection every single day.

That was part of the reason why, halfway through the renovation period, Minho handed Hyunjin a thick wad of cash and said, “Here.”

Hyunjin stared down at it in pure shock before looking up at Minho, confused and a bit suspicious. “What’s this?”

“Money,” Minho said, deciding to be a smartass.

Hyunjin gave him a look. “Why are you _giving_ it to me?”

“It’s yours,” Minho said. “You get to do whatever you want with it.”

Again, Hyunjin stared at him with that surprised and confused expression. “But…why?”

“Why not?”

“It’s just…you don’t think I’m going to immediately take this and run?”

Minho _was_ worried about that, but for some reason, he didn’t think Hyunjin would follow through. Hyunjin had stuck around this long. Why would he run off now?

So Minho said, “If you do, I won’t be mad. It’s your money now. Do whatever you want with it.”

Then, with that, he gave Hyunjin a smile (it was a _bit_ flirty, but that was intentional) and walked away. He had some renovations to oversee, since they were finally bringing in the new baseboards and other decorative wooden panelling.

He didn’t see Hyunjin for the rest of the day, but that didn’t worry him. Hyunjin liked to go off on his own sometimes, which was fine with Minho. Hyunjin was his own person, after all. Not some servant or worker. He was free to do as he pleased, something Minho told him over and over again.

Because of that, he truly didn’t think Hyunjin would run. Hyunjin had had so many chances to leave in the past, and yet he had stayed. Minho liked to think that Hyunjin was starting to turn his life around, starting to finally get to a better place. And he liked to think that he was part of the cause, and potentially part of the reason why Hyunjin stayed. He wasn’t entirely sure how Hyunjin felt towards him, if Hyunjin was just as fond of Minho as Minho was of him, but at the very least, he hoped Hyunjin enjoyed his company.

That night, however, Hyunjin was nowhere to be found.

It wasn’t unusual that Hyunjin was sometimes late in getting back to the mansion. He would always barge into Minho’s room, though, and collapse into his chairwhenever he got home. At first it annoyed Minho, since Hyunjin had fallen out of the habit of knocking, but as the weeks past, it was just another thing he liked about Hyunjin. Hyunjin was just so… _dramatic_. Sometimes it was annoying. Other times it was hilarious. It depended on Minho’s mood.

Minho waited for him to come barging in that night. But he never did.

That was fine, Minho thought, even though he was a bit disappointed. Hyunjin must be too exhausted to the point where he just went to bed. Even though Minho would think that Hyunjin would at least stop in to say goodnight, he knew he would see him in the morning. He could tease him about it then.

When morning dawned, however, Minho went downstairs to find the kitchen empty. Confused, he went back upstairs to Hyunjin’s room. He knocked before he opened it, surprised that it was unlocked. He expected to see Hyunjin fast asleep in his bed, perhaps from a hangover, but the bed was empty.

Additionally, Hyunjin didn’t have many things to begin with, but his bag and his clothes were nowhere to be seen.

He was gone.

Minho stood there for several minutes in shock, his heart breaking into more pieces the longer he stayed there. He had really thought that Hyunjin would stay around. He had never been so wrong.

His first reaction was anger. A flash of it nearly caused him to snap and destroy the room. But he held himself back, no matter how tightly he clenched the doorknob. He waited until the surge of anger passed to think clearly again.

The workers would be arriving soon. The house was almost completely finished. Minho needed to stay calm and collected when they arrived as to not scare them off or to suddenly snap at them.

He kept his emotions suppressed throughout the entire day, but he never got Hyunjin off his mind. He just didn’t _understand_. Why would Hyunjin stay around for so long, just to disappear? Was it a con? Was it all just a con? Did he really just stay to earn Minho’s trust so Minho would give him more things—food, valuables, money—and so he could take it all and run off?

Minho snorted and shook his head at himself. Hyunjin really was a talented actor. He really got Minho to trust him, to believe him. But at the end of the day, he really was just a selfish, shifty thief. He would never change, no matter how much Minho hoped he would.

That night, he drank an entire bottle of wine that Mr. Kim had given him as a welcome home gift. Minho had originally saved it for a special occasion— and had specifically saved it to share with _Hyunjin_ —but now, none of that mattered. He didn’t feel guilty in the slightest after drinking every last drop. He didn’t even feel guilty about sleeping it off late the next morning, to the point where Mr. Kim had to knock on his door and rouse him.

“I hoped you had outgrown this,” Mr. Kim said with a sigh. He bent down to pick up the empty bottle on the floor next to Minho’s bed.

“It was an accident,” Minho mumbled, face still pressed into the pillow.

“Uh huh,” Mr. Kim said. “What did you drink for this time, Minho? Boredom?”

“No.” Minho groaned and rolled over, rubbing at his eyes.

When he didn’t elaborate, Mr. Kim snorted and gave up trying. He could never really get answers out of Minho, so he had long since stopped trying. Ten years hadn’t changed a thing.

“You didn’t even share it with Hyunjin,” he said with a shake of his head. “Though, I suppose that’s a bit difficult, with him getting arrested and everything.”

Minho looked up at him sharply. “What?”

“You didn’t know?” Mr. Kim looked surprised. “I would have thought you had kept better tabs on someone you claim to be your best friend. Didn’t you notice him gone for a few days?”

“I thought he left,” Minho said.

“No, the police arrested him,” Mr. Kim said. “Caught him stealing something and finally nabbed him. I thought you knew and were letting him rot in there as a lesson.”

“No!” Minho jumped up, out of bed. “I have to go get him.”

“You might want to get dressed first.”

Minho looked down. He _was_ wearing pants, so that was an improvement, but walking in shirtless and shoeless while wearing a silk black robe wasn’t the best of impressions.

He combed his hair and changed into dark pants, a crisp white shirt, and a black jacket to make a more respectable image. Then he rushed to town with Mr. Kim in his truck.

Minho had never been to the police station, but it didn’t intimidate him in the slightest. He threw open the door and marched right in, surprising the young deputy sitting behind a desk.

“Where is he?” Minho demanded.

“I’m sorry, sir, who do you mean?” The deputy rose from his desk slowly.

“The man you arrested a few days ago,” Minho said. “The thief.”

“Oh, ol’ Hwang Hyunjin?” The deputy snorted, apparently finding this amusing. “Sure, you’re here for him.”

Minho just regarded him with a cold, unblinking stare, and the deputy’s smile faded quickly.

“You’re really here for Hwang Hyunjin?” the deputy asked, now looking confused. “Why?”

“That’s none of your concern,” Minho scoffed. “Whatever his bail is, I’ll pay it. Just release him.”

The deputy gawked at him. Minho wanted to smack some sense into him, but he forced himself to remain calm. At that moment, however, the police chief walked into the room.

Now, Minho _did_ recognize this man. He hadn’t been fond of him or his stupid handlebar mustache all those years ago. Though, he was glad to see that the thing had turned considerably gray in the past ten years.

The police chief’s name was Hauser. Judging from the way his eyes narrowed when he saw Minho, he recognized Minho immediately.

“Lee Minho,” Hauser scoffed. “I heard you were back in town. Didn’t quite believe it.”

“Officer Hauser,” Minho replied coldly. “How nice to see you again. You’re looking quite well! You don’t look a day over sixty.”

Hauser glared at him, since he was, in fact, just fifty years old but already completely gray. Minho just smiled sweetly at him.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Lee?” Hauser asked instead.

“Well, I was just telling your deputy that I’m here for the man you arrested a few days ago. Hwang Hyunjin, specifically.”

“The thief,” Hauser spat. “You’re here for the thief.”

“I am indeed,” Minho replied. “I told your deputy that I would pay whatever his bail is.”

Hauser snorted. “He doesn’t get a bail. He’s due for a hanging.”

“Without a trial?” Minho arched an eyebrow, even though his stomach pitched at the sound of an actual execution.

“He doesn’t need one. Everyone knows he’s guilty. Everyone who’s actually lived here for years, that is.”

Minho ignored that jab and said instead, “Do you have any evidence against him?”

“Well, no, but—” the deputy started to say when Hauser cut him off.

“We have eyewitness accounts,” Hauser said. “It’s enough.”

“So, what, exactly, did he steal a few days ago?” Minho crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow.

“He stole a wad of cash, that’s what,” Hauser said.

Minho snorted at that. “Did you _see_ him steal that wad of cash?”

Hauser clenched his jaw but said, “No.”

“So how do you know that he stole it?”

“He’s a thief.”

“You haven’t been able to actually catch him in the act, so for all you know, it’s just rumors. Do you arrest people just on rumors, officer?”

“Are you implying that I don’t know how to do my job, Mr. Lee?”

“Not implying anything,” Minho said. “Just stating the facts. A fact—he did not _steal_ that money because I was the one who gave it to him.”

“You gave a thief a wad of cash?”

“I’d like to let you know that he’s been working for me for the past few weeks, actually,” Minho said. “He’s never done anything to make me doubt his integrity, despite everyone telling me how untrustworthy he is.”

The young deputy laughed at that. “Oh, he’s conning you, that’s what.”

“Perhaps so,” Minho said, glaring him down. The deputy stopped laughing. “But until that happens, you have no reason to hold him here. So, release him immediately and return all of his things.”

“You don’t own this town anymore, Lee,” Hauser scoffed. “Your family is long gone. You have no influence or power here.”

Minho fixed his glare on him. “Let. Him. Go.”

They glared at each other for several minutes, during which the young deputy nervously looked in between the two of them. Eventually, though, Hauser clenched his jaw and scoffed, “Fine. Bail’s a hundred bucks. You got that on you, Lee?”

Minho smiled sweetly at him and said, “As a matter of fact, Hauser, I do.” He promptly pulled out his wallet and made a show of thumbing through the other hundred-dollar bills in it before selecting one and handing it to Hauser. He didn’t miss how the deputy’s jaw dropped and his eyes practically bugged out of his head at the sight of all that cold cash.

Hauser snatched the money away and immediately slipped it into his pocket. Then he turned sharply on his heel and walked down the hall, where the small jail cells were. He went to the one in the farthest, darkest corner and set to unlocking it.

Minho saw Hyunjin through the bars. He was sitting on the cold, stone floor, his back up against his wall, his head bowed. When Hauser walked up, he scrambled to his feet. He met Minho’s eyes briefly through the bars before quickly looking away, his head lowered.

Hauser grabbed Hyunjin by the arm and yanked him out of the cell, roughly enough to make Hyunjin stumble. “Guess it’s your lucky day, faggot,” Hauser growled at Hyunjin before shoving him at Minho.

Hyunjin just winced and refused to meet anyone’s gaze. Now that he was in somewhat of a better light, Minho could see his face clearly. Or, rather, he could see the ugly black eye more clearly.

Rage boiled up inside of him and burst out of him, turning his tone into somewhat of a growl as he demanded, “Who did this?” He pointed at the black eye, though his eyes were on Hauser.

Hauser shrugged. “Must’ve done that to himself. He likes to look victimized.”

“Bullshit,” Minho scoffed. “Apologize to him.”

Hyunjin’s head snapped up at that.

Hauser raised his eyebrows at Minho. “Excuse me?”

“I said, apologize to him,” Minho snarled. “For wrongfully arresting him, for beating him, and for just now calling him that disgusting word. Apologize. _Now_.”

Hauser snorted in disbelief, but Minho wasn’t messing around. He glared at Hauser like he wanted to rip his face off, which, in that moment, he was strongly tempted to.

Apparently the tension was too much, because the young deputy piped up, “I apologize, Mr. Hwang. It won’t happen again.”

“That’s a start,” Minho said, looking at the deputy and nodding. “Thank you. You’re already a better man than your son of a bitch chief.”

Hauser took a step closer, but Minho wasn’t intimidated.

“I’m waiting,” Minho said.

Hauser’s lip curled with disgust, but he spat out, “I apologize.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard, now, was it?” Minho smiled at him.

Hauser genuinely looked like he wanted to punch Minho. Minho almost wished he would, just so he could rightfully punch back. Or perhaps use that as a basis for an assault case.

Luckily, he didn’t have to think that one through.

They left the police station a few minutes later, after the young deputy returned all of Hyunjin’s things. He gave them back a parcel of clothes, a new pair of shoes, a new bag, and something that looked like a bag of stale pastries. Minho threw that in the trash before walking out the door, where Mr. Kim waited in the truck.

Hyunjin didn’t speak to or even look at Minho on the drive back. He just stared down at the floor, blinking rapidly and biting his lower lip, like he was on the verge of tears.

Mr. Kim dropped them off by the front door, since he now came to the house only in the daylight. Minho thanked him for the ride and walked inside. He gestured for Hyunjin to follow him upstairs, away from the curious eyes and ears of the workers moving around in the house. Hyunjin followed and obediently went into Minho’s room ahead of him. Minho stepped into the room and shut the door behind them to give them some sense of privacy. When he turned around, Hyunjin flinched.

The flinch made Minho pause. If it had just been a small thing, he would have overlooked it. But this was a full-body flinch, one that caused his shoulders to hunch and his body to turn slightly so his shoulder could take the brunt of the blow.

Minho stopped immediately, a sick feeling settling in his stomach.

A beat of silence paused, during which Minho realized Hyunjin thought he was going punish him by beating him, and Hyunjin waited for him to strike.

Then Minho managed to say, “Are you okay?”

Hyunjin looked at him, a bit distrustfully, before saying, “Yes.”

He was lying, but Minho could get past that for now.

Minho opened his mouth to say more, but Hyunjin beat him to it.

“I didn’t run off with it,” Hyunjin blurted. “I didn’t. I was going to come back, I swear, I just got distracted.”

“Hyunjin—” Minho began.

“I know you trusted me and that you don’t anymore and that you’ll probably never trust me again,” Hyunjin said, the words tumbling out in a rush. His eyes were filling with tears already. “You trusted me, and I went and got myself arrested. It made you look bad and I put you in an awful position and I am so, so sorry. I understand if you never let me go anywhere by myself again and if you want to beat some sense into me. I deserve it.”

Minho stared at him in horror. It took him a few minutes to recollect his thoughts and to manage to speak, and when he did, all he could manage was, “Hyunjin.”

“I’m sorry.” And Hyunjin promptly burst into tears.

If Minho took the time to analyze this, he’d come to the conclusion that Hyunjin was once again pulling out all the stops for his performance and conning him. But in that moment, Minho didn’t think about that at all. He knew from personal experience that no one could fake that kind of fear.

So, without really processing it, he stepped forward and pulled Hyunjin into a hug.

Hyunjin went rigid. He stopped crying for a few moments only because he was holding his breath, but when Minho didn’t pull away, he couldn’t hold back anymore and burst into a new wave of tears.

“I thought you had left,” Minho said, holding Hyunjin tightly.

Hyunjin just shook his head and pressed his forehead into Minho’s shoulder. Minho closed his eyes as he reached up to bury his fingers in Hyunjin’s hair at the base of his neck.

“All those times you came here with bruises…it was from the cops, wasn’t it?”

“Some of them,” Hyunjin managed to say. “I always—I always got away.”

“But not this time,” Minho said.

Hyunjin shook his head again and sobbed into Minho’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Minho whispered, turning his head to bury his face in Hyunjin’s hair. “It’s okay. I forgive you. It’s okay.”

“You—you’re not—you’re not gonna b-beat me?”

“God, Hyunjin, _no_. Why would I do that?”

“B-because I—”

“ _No_. That was _your_ money. I told you to do whatever you wanted with it. If you decided to leave town, well…that was your choice. I’ll admit, I was disappointed when you didn’t come back, but I never blamed you.”

“I never wanted to leave.” Hyunjin pulled back, his eyes red and puffy. “I want to stay here. If you’ll still let me.”

“Of course I’ll still let you.” Minho looked at him like he was crazy. He reached up to take Hyunjin’s face in his hands and wiped away the tears with his thumbs. “Only if you promise you’re not conning me right now.”

Hyunjin’s eyes went wide with that _fear_ again as he quickly shook his head. “I’m not, I swear, I’m not. I want to stay here.”

Minho smiled. “You can stay. You can always stay.”

Hyunjin’s entire body seemed to sag with relief. He lowered his head to avoid meeting Minho’s gaze, while he reached up to place his hand over one of Minho’s.

“What’d you buy, anyways?” Minho asked.

Hyunjin still wouldn’t look up at him as he mumbled, “Clothes.”

“Really?”

Hyunjin nodded. “I…I needed them.” He sniffed.

Minho smiled, feeling like his heart was about to burst. But then he remembered that one bag of pastries and couldn’t help snorting. “And you also bought yourself a snack, huh?”

Hyunjin paused for a moment before shaking his head. “Those weren’t for me.”

“No?”

“No, I…I stopped by that bakery you like and…I bought you some danishes because I know how much you like them and…yeah. The police officer came in while I was leaving.”

“You bought me danishes?” Minho hated how his voice cracked.

Hyunjin nodded, still not looking up.

Minho had never wanted to kiss someone more than he did in that moment. But he refrained and whispered, “That’s so sweet, Hyunjin.”

“I almost wish I hadn’t,” Hyunjin mumbled. “If I had just gone home right then instead, I wouldn’t have run into him and wouldn’t have gotten myself arrested and you wouldn’t have had to come down and save my ass—”

“Hey, Hyunjin.” Minho was grinning. “It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know, it’s just…” Hyunjin sighed. “I’m always getting into trouble and you always have to come and save me.” He glanced up and smirked a little. “It’s really damaging my pride.”

Minho snorted and patted the side of Hyunjin’s face before withdrawing. Hyunjin immediately pouted. “Don’t worry, Hyunjinnie, I’m happy to do it. And I’m sure you’d do the same for me.”

Hyunjin’s expression turned skeptical. “You…you really think I would?”

“Would you not?”

“Well…I guess it depends.” Hyunjin snorted. “You’re an immortal vampire, can’t you take care of yourself?”

“Apparently I can take better care of myself than you,” Minho said, lightly batting Hyunjin’s cheek. It was playful, so luckily Hyunjin didn’t take it the wrong way. He smiled at Minho instead. Minho smiled back before turning away to look at the parcel of clothes Hyunjin had bought. “Now, are you going to show me the clothes you bought? Or do you expect me to just trust your fashion taste?”

“Oh, excuse me, I have _exquisite_ taste in clothes,” Hyunjin scoffed, and just like that, the tension in the room dissipated. “I would like to show them to you, because maybe you’ll learn a thing or two.”

“Wow,” Minho said. “The disrespect. Wow.”

Hyunjin just grinned and picked up the parcel of clothes. “Just wait. You’ll be jealous.”

“Where are you going?” Minho smirked back as Hyunjin started for the door.

“Well, you have to see them _on_ —so I’m going to go change.”

“You can’t just change right here?”

The moment Minho said that, he kind of wished he didn’t. His ears immediately burned, while Hyunjin blinked at him in surprise as his own face began to turn red.

“Er—never mind, you can go change somewhere else,” Minho said quickly, making a shooing gesture at Hyunjin before turning away. He pretended to be interested in his record player just so he wouldn’t have to look at Hyunjin.

“Uh.” Hyunjin cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m—I’ll just—yeah.” He darted out of the room without another word.

Fortunately, Hyunjin did come back to show Minho his clothes. Minho approved, though he ended up staring at Hyunjin a bit too long at some points. It caused both of them to blush and look away.

They didn’t really speak about it for the rest of the day. That is, until dinner, when Hyunjin asked out of nowhere, “How the hell can vampires _blush_?”

It was so out of the blue that he and Minho stared at each other for a few moments before bursting into laughter.

Things changed after that day. Well, on the surface, it didn’t look like things changed. But there was a change in the way Minho and Hyunjin acted around each other. For example, Hyunjin started standing closer than necessary to Minho. Not on purpose or anything, but it just _happened_. And he was a lot touchier than usual. He found a way to touch Minho innocently enough that Minho didn’t even notice it at first until after Hyunjin grew bold enough to literally smack Minho's arm repeatedly while he was laughing at something.

At the time, Minho grinned and laughed it off, once again amused at how overdramatic Hyunjin was, but later on, he started to think about all the other ways Hyunjin found excuses to touch him. Like…their hands brushing or their shoulders touching or even Hyunjin affectionately poking Minho—in the face, in the arm, in the side. Minho, of course, retaliated whenever Hyunjin poked him in the side, discovering through Hyunjin’s high-pitched squealing and screaming that Hyunjin was also _very_ ticklish. Minho filed that away in his mind, fully intending to use that information against him at some point.

Then, one day, the renovations came to an end. The hammering and talking and sawing all came to a stop. The mansion was silent once more. But this time, its silence was a happy one. After all, it once again felt like a home. There was running water again and electricity and _functional windows_ and the garden was trimmed and beautiful, not overgrown and vaguely threatening. It was beautiful, and Minho had never been so happy.

He was so happy that he planned accordingly to celebrate. What made it even better, though, was that Hyunjin was there to celebrate with him.

They no longer had to sit up in Minho’s bedroom. Instead, they could sit in the drawing room or the dining room or in the library or in the _gaming room._ What a thrill that was.

They ended up in the drawing room, since Minho liked its atmosphere and the fact that they could build a comfortable fire as they sat in the new plush chairs, listening to the record player.

He was content as he sat there, a faint smile on his face, watching the flickering flames and listening to the light, sweet music in the background. Every so often he glanced at Hyunjin, who would sometimes glance back at him and smirk. Each glance and smile made Minho’s heart swell. He loved comfortable nights like this.

Hyunjin sat up suddenly. “I have something for you,” he said.

Minho sat up too. “What a coincidence. So do I.”

Hyunjin blinked in surprise. “Wait, really?”

“Duh,” Minho said. “First night in our renovated house—this calls for celebration.”

Hyunjin’s eyes had turned somewhat starry-eyed. “Our house?”

“Well, yeah,” Minho said. “You live here, I live here—it’s our shared house.”

Hyunjin blinked again, this time multiple times. If Minho didn’t know any better, he’d say Hyunjin was fighting back tears.

Minho smirked at him and took the opportunity to jump up. “Be right back,” he said, before rushing off. He ran up to his room, where he had hidden the presents he had bought a few days ago when he went to town with Mr. Kim. Hyunjin had stayed home and had no idea what Minho had bought. It had put a happy smile on Minho’s face then and did so now.

He ran back downstairs, hiding some of it behind his back.

“This wouldn’t be a proper celebration without _alcohol,_ so I bought champagne.” Minho held out the bottle, a smile on his face.

“Oh, well, that’s ironic.” Hyunjin reached down beside his chair and picked up a bottle of wine with a bow around the neck. He smirked at Minho. “I found some moscato.”

“Guess we plan to get _drunk_ tonight.” Minho grinned. Apparently while he had run upstairs, Hyunjin had run downstairs to get his surprise as well as two crystal glasses. He set them on the table for now as Minho popped open the champagne.

“What else are you hiding behind your back?” Hyunjin asked, smirking at the way Minho kept one arm hidden from view the entire time.

“Nothing.” Minho smiled at him. Hyunjin snorted at that, but Minho turned his attention to filling both their glasses with champagne. He held up his glass. “To our house.”

“To our house,” Hyunjin said, smirking as they clinked glasses. After a sip, he gestured to Minho’s arm. “You gonna stay like that all night, or…?”

“Oh, alright.” Minho heaved a great sigh before setting his glass down. “Since you’re _so_ impatient.”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, but then Minho held out a flat, narrow box with a bow around it.

“For you,” Minho said.

“Alright.” Hyunjin set his glass down too and took the box. “This better not be a bunch of cigars.”

Minho just smiled as Hyunjin pulled off the ribbon.

Hyunjin opened up the box and froze. The smile faded from his face as he stared down at its contents.

That wasn’t the reaction Minho was hoping for, and it caused nerves to swirl in his stomach. “I know it’s not _much,_ but I thought you would want to get the rest yourself,” Minho said quickly, his heart beginning to pound. “I figured you would be the expert and would know exactly what to get, so…”

Hyunjin looked up at him, his eyes wide. Minho couldn’t quite read his expression, which just made him even more worried. Had he overstepped? Did Hyunjin not like it? Minho was about two seconds away from wringing his hands like a worried old woman.

Finally, Hyunjin spoke. “You…you bought me a paintbrush?”

“You said you wanted to be an artist,” Minho said, only to realize exactly what Hyunjin had said when he said that. “Oh, wait, you said _you_ wanted to buy your first art supplies, because then you would know that you made it…oh, god, I just took that away from you didn’t I? God I’m so—”

He was cut off by Hyunjin throwing himself at him. Minho tensed, his mind immediately thinking it was an attack, but then he realized that Hyunjin was just…hugging him. He was hugging him.

“I love it,” Hyunjin whispered. “Thank you.”

Minho overcame his shock after a moment and hugged Hyunjin back. At first, he was light and just barely patted Hyunjin on the back, but when Hyunjin continued to hug him, Minho threw all that nervousness out the window and hugged Hyunjin just as tightly.

Hyunjin didn’t speak for several moments, during which he buried his face into the side of Minho’s neck. It was a bit amusing, considering he was taller than Minho and had to bend down. Minho almost chuckled at that but stopped at the last second when he realized he was hearing sniffling.

“Hyunjin,” he said. “Are you crying?”

“No,” Hyunjin said, his voice clearly thick with tears.

Minho snorted at that and held on a little bit tighter. “I thought you hated it.”

“I know I’m sorry I just—” Hyunjin choked back a sob. “It’s just—no one’s ever—no one’s ever _done_ something like this. I thought you were just ignoring me when I—when I said I wanted to be an artist—” he started crying harder.

Minho couldn’t help it and laughed. “I’m just glad you’re happy.”

“ _No_ ,” Hyunjin wailed. “I’m not! Because now I have to get _you_ something and I don’t know what to get you and—”

“You don’t need to get me anything, Hyunjin.”

“But I do!”

“Well, you gave me those new records, remember?” Minho smiled, unable to keep himself from swaying a little bit to the music playing. It was more to comfort Hyunjin than anything. “And you got that wine. No need to buy me anything else.”

“But still…” Hyunjin pulled back finally, still sniffling. “I don’t understand why you’re still being so…so _good_ to me. I broke into your house and stole things and threw vampire repellant at you and insulted you again and again and then brought a gang onto your property and then got in _trouble_ and yet you’re still letting me live here with you and bailing me out of jail and buying me things and—”

Minho smiled at him, finding it ridiculously adorable how worked up Hyunjin was getting over this.

“—and I don’t deserve any of it,” Hyunjin finished, looking up at Minho with wide eyes. “I don’t. I’m an awful person, Minho.”

“You’re not,” Minho said. “You’re beautiful and kind and funny and brave and talented—yes, you’re a talented thief, that’s the last time I’m saying it, so don’t get used to it—”

Hyunjin snorted at that, which spurred Minho to go on.

“—and at times you _are_ loud and dramatic and annoying, and _yes_ you do make mistakes, but that doesn’t make you any less deserving of some basic decency,” Minho continued. “You deserve love just like anyone else.”  
Hyunjin blinked.

Minho realized what he said, but he refused to take it back or be embarrassed by it. “I…I have to confess. I have feelings for you, Hwang Hyunjin. And I know you probably don’t feel the same way, I mean, who would love a…a monster like me? But…I just wanted to tell you that and I hope it doesn’t—”

Hyunjin cut him off by leaning forward and kissing him.

Minho went rigid, feeling an electric shock course through him. And yet it didn’t last long at all, because Hyunjin pulled back quickly, his eyes wide, his face bright red.

“I have feelings for you too, Lee Minho,” Hyunjin said. “If…if that wasn’t obvious _._ ”

“You didn’t specify _which_ feelings,” Minho said. He blamed his stupid response as an after effect from the kiss—his brain was still scrambling to put itself back together, so that was the best it could do.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes and pressed his forehead up against Minho’s. “ _Romantic_ feelings, you idiot.”

“Are you sure?”

“Keep asking me that and it might change.”

Minho grinned at that. Hyunjin grinned back.

“I love you,” Minho whispered.

Hyunjin didn’t even hesitate. “I love you too.”

“Fangs and everything?”

“I love you _just_ for your fangs.”

“What?”

Hyunjin laughed at that and pulled back. Minho was momentarily caught off-guard by how radiant Hyunjin’s face was. His eyes were sparkling and his skin was practically glowing with happiness. And was this all just because of Minho?

There was a fire burning in Minho’s chest, and it burned even hotter at that thought.

“Believe me, I was shocked when I realized it too,” Hyunjin said, still grinning at him.

“When?” Minho asked. “When did you realize, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh, let’s see.” Hyunjin tilted his head to one side as he thought. “I think I started feeling it when we began the renovations, but I ignored it. And then…when I got arrested, all I could think about when I was in that cell…was you. I kept thinking about what you were thinking and if I’d ever see you again. I was really scared in that moment. I really thought I was alone.” He smiled again. “But then you came in and essentially insulted ol’ Hauser to his face and…you stood up for me. No one has ever really stood up for me. No one has ever bailed me out of jail, either. So I think that was when I realized I never wanted to leave again. Never wanted to leave _you_ again. Not even for a moment.”

Minho smiled and reached up to cup the side of Hyunjin’s face. Hyunjin leaned into his touch, his eyes slipping shut.

“No one’s ever treated me like you have,” Hyunjin murmured. “No one’s like you, Minho. You’re better than a majority of the people out there. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”

Minho didn’t know what to say. His throat was constricting with emotion, so he just hummed and focused on stroking Hyunjin’s cheekbone with his thumb.

Hyunjin opened his eyes suddenly and looked at him. “Can you promise me something?”

“Anything,” Minho said.

“Never call yourself a monster again.”

Minho blinked at that.

“I know that’s how you see yourself,” Hyunjin said. “And I understand. I’ve been told that I’m worthless scum for the majority of my life. I’ve believed it for a long time. But if you can convince me that I’m not some worthless piece of shit, then I can convince you that you aren’t a monster or some demon or some blood-sucking bastard. So, can you promise me that?”

Minho swallowed and nodded. There were tears in his eyes. “I promise.”

“Thank you,” Hyunjin murmured. Then he leaned forward and kissed Minho once more before laying his head on Minho’s shoulder again. Minho closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of holding Hyunjin in his arms, of finally feeling loved again. He smiled to himself as he continued to sway to the music as he held Hyunjin tightly. Hyunjin, of course, swayed with him.

They stayed like that for a long time, just enjoying the moment with each other.

Then Hyunjin whispered, “This is the first time you’ve danced.”

“You can’t really call this dancing,” Minho said.

Hyunjin pulled back so he could look at Minho. Then he looked down and took Minho’s hands. He positioned one on his hip, while he put his hand on Minho’s shoulder, and they clasped their other hands together.

Hyunjin took a deep breath and said, “Shall we dance?”

Minho smiled. Hyunjin smiled back.

They spent the rest of the night slow dancing in that room, gazing into each other’s eyes, and laughing sweetly. And even when it was time for bed, when Hyunjin could barely keep his eyes open, Minho didn’t let him go. They collapsed into Minho’s bed together and held each other tight throughout the whole night.


	3. Chapter 3

The days began to fly by after that. Minho realized he could no longer stay isolated in his mansion and that he now had to take care of both the house and Hyunjin (though Hyunjin refused to admit that he needed—or liked—to be taken care of). They needed money. So Minho started looking into their finances and their estate. He discovered that he could rent out sections of the estate to local farmers and that he could receive a small percentage of their sales in return. It wasn’t much, but it didn’t need to be. They had no staff they needed to pay. They just needed enough for food and utilities. And, of course, for leisure.

Hyunjin was so excited when they went to town next to buy more art supplies. He was practically glowing, where not even the suspicious and curious looks of the locals could ruin his good mood. He dragged Minho right to the craft store, where he selected a new set of brushes, some palettes, palette knives, an easel, and paint. It took them the longest to select the paint, since Hyunjin wasn’t entirely sure what pigments he wanted. He wanted to experiment a bit first before he decided which paint to keep indefinitely. All of this went over Minho’s head, so he was really just there to keep Hyunjin company and to enjoy watching Hyunjin grin from ear-to-ear with such happiness.

As Hyunjin prepared to buy all of his things, Minho noticed something missing and frowned.

“Don’t you need canvas?” he asked.

Hyunjin grinned. “Yep. We’re going to order an entire bolt of it. And then we’re going to buy our own planks of wood. That way I can cut whatever sizes I want.”

“You’ll make your own canvas frames?” Minho stared at him in amazement.

“Yep. I’ll teach you how to make one too when we get all of the supplies. It’ll hurt your little baby fingers, but it’ll be fun!”

Minho couldn’t help pouting and looking down at his hands. “I don’t have little baby fingers.”

Hyunjin snorted. “You sure about that?”

Minho _did_ know he had little baby fingers, mostly because of how Hyunjin liked to compare their hands, usually when they were laying in bed together, or when he was reaching for Minho’s hand to lace their fingers together. It wasn’t _his_ fault he had stubby fingers while Hyunjin had these long-ass, spindly things! Minho supposed it just matched Hyunjin’s long limbs. So slender and graceful.

They dragged all of Hyunjin’s new supplies back to the house, where Hyunjin immediately set to clearing out one of the bedrooms and converting it into his new studio.

“What are you going to paint first?” Minho asked.

“Mm, maybe a still-life?” Hyunjin looked up from where he was laying out his brushes. He glanced up at Minho and grinned. “You wouldn’t mind posing for me so I can paint you, would you?”

Minho snorted. “Can I pose with a drink in my hand?”

“You can pose however you want.”

“How about in the nude?”

“I thought that was implied.”

Minho laughed and wrapped his arms around Hyunjin’s waist. He tugged him closer and kissed him. Hyunjin was smiling as he kissed him back.

He did end up trying to teach Minho how to stretch canvas when the canvas was delivered. And it did hurt Minho’s little baby fingers. He decided he was content to just watch Hyunjin do it. It was even more mesmerizing watching Hyunjin mix paint with a palette knife.

“Where did you learn to do all of this?” Minho asked, frowning.

“University,” Hyunjin replied.

When Minho just looked at him in confusion, Hyunjin smiled and elaborated.

“There’s a university in my hometown,” Hyunjin said. “I used to sneak into classes. It was the best because all you had to do was dress somewhat nicer and act like you belonged there and no one stopped you. I used to sneak into art classes all the time to watch them mix paint and stretch canvas. One of the professors caught me once, but he was a nice old man who taught because he was passionate about it, not because he wanted to make a profit. He thought everyone deserved to learn. So he taught me how to mix paint and stretch canvas. He even gave me an excerpt from a book he had co-authored.”

His smile faded as he looked away, back at the canvas he had been priming. “But then he died of a heart attack and the new professor did _not_ have the same perspectives on it.” He checked to see if it was dry yet before beginning to apply another coat.

Minho just looked at him, momentarily distracted by how beautiful Hyunjin looked in that moment. Then Hyunjin took a deep breath and continued.

“I held onto those papers for so long,” he said. “I read them so many times that I had them memorized word for word after awhile. Then they kicked me out of the orphanage and I got into trouble with other orphans on the streets. Some kids tore them up. After that I left town and never looked back.”

He looked up at Minho, who suddenly felt embarrassed for staring. He lowered his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Minho said, his voice soft.

“Don't be,” Hyunjin said. “Though, just saying, you owe me a story of your life now. Specifically about how you turned.” He smirked.

Minho couldn’t smirk back. “You don’t want to know that story.”

Hyunjin’s smile faded. “But I do. You even told me once that you would tell me that at some point, and that I would have to tell you my story. I’ve told you my story. You should tell me yours.”

Minho shook his head. “I can’t.”

Hyunjin pursed his lips, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he went back to preparing the canvases, quietly seething to himself.

Minho decided to leave the studio at that point, just because he thought they both needed some time to themselves.

Later that night after dinner, when Minho was sitting in the drawing room, reading a book, Hyunjin came in and climbed right into his lap, straddling him. Minho honestly hadn’t expected that and looked up at him, his book completely forgotten.

“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin said, staring down at him with apologetic eyes. “I shouldn’t have overstepped earlier. Just because I willingly told you about my story didn’t mean that you were ready to share yours, and I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Minho said.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to—” Minho stopped when he saw the way Hyunjin was smirking. “Oh.”

“Is that a yes?” Hyunjin asked.

“ _Yes_ ,” Minho breathed, and Hyunjin leaned down to lock their lips together. Minho hummed as he ran his hands down Hyunjin’s sides until they came to rest at Hyunjin’s hips. They stayed there for a few moments, rubbing circles into Hyunjin’s skin, before he slipped them under the hem of Hyunjin’s shirt and started the process of running them back up Hyunjin’s sides. Hyunjin shuddered under his touch and just kissed him harder, driving him absolutely _insane_ with the way he sucked on his tongue. At one point he started moving his hips, grinding down _just right._ Minho had to pull back before it became so heated that he couldn’t think clearly.

“Right here?” he asked.

“Why not?” Hyunjin murmured, starting to kiss along Minho’s jaw and then down the side of his neck.

“It isn’t _that_ big of a chair…”

“Well, we can get creative.” Hyunjin pulled back to smirk down at Minho. “I have a few things in mind.”

Minho smiled up at him, and Hyunjin smiled back, without the sultriness. It was just a wide, happy smile that was such a stark contrast from the flirty smirk a few moments ago. Minho loved how Hyunjin could switch personas so easily.

They did end up just staying right there, with minimal fumbling around, though a few times Minho couldn’t help laughing at their clumsiness. It reminded him of their first time together.

The first time they moved to the next level of their romance, Minho had secretly been terrified. He hadn’t been intimate with anyone in ten years, obviously. What if he messed it up? What if he couldn’t perform? What if Hyunjin was so disgusted and disappointed with him that he—

Hyunjin must have known what Minho was thinking, because he kissed him right then and there and whispered against Minho’s lips, “I’m nervous too. We can wait, if you want.”

Minho shook his head. “No, I want this. I want _you_. I want to show you that I love you.”

Hyunjin smirked at that and pulled back. They were on the bed in Minho’s—now _their_ —bedroom, with Minho straddling Hyunjin, whose lips were already red and beautiful, whose eyes were shining as they gazed up at Minho. He was so beautiful. Sometimes Minho seriously couldn’t handle it.

“You know, you’ve already shown me how much you love me,” Hyunjin said, reaching up to cup Minho’s face. Minho took his hand and kissed his palm.

“Let me show it to you one more time, then,” Minho said.

Hyunjin smiled and looped his arms around Minho’s neck to pull him back down to him. “Okay,” he whispered before their lips met once more.

It wasn’t perfect. There was fumbling and knocking into each other and some not-so-sexy mistakes here and there. But there was also giggling and smiles and kisses and warmth—so much warmth. Minho had never felt such warmth since he had been turned. At times it was overwhelming, but Minho didn’t want to be separated from Hyunjin for even a moment, no matter how hot and sticky they both became.

Then, when it was all over, they laid in each others arms, smiling. That’s when Hyunjin had run a hand down Minho’s arm and had picked up Minho’s hand. He giggled and said, “Your hands are so _small!_ They’re like little baby hands!”

Minho couldn’t help scoffing. “Excuse me?”

“Look, look!” Hyunjin pressed his own hand flat against Minho’s and promptly died laughing of the difference.

Minho pulled away and pretended to be offended while Hyunjin continued to laugh at how his fingers—his stupidly long and graceful fingers—had completely dwarfed Minho’s much stubbier ones. Eventually Minho decided to retaliate by saying, “These little baby fingers still know all of your ticklish spots!” And then Hyunjin’s laughter turned into shrieks as Minho jabbed him in the side. They wrestled a bit on the bed, with Hyunjin still screaming and trying to fight Minho’s attack off and with Minho laughing at him.

Somehow Hyunjin managed to flip them and pin Minho’s arms to the bed. That shocked both of them, and they just stared at each other for a few moments. Then Minho smirked seductively up at him and said, “Oh no, you got me. I’m completely powerless now.” He even rolled his hips a little just to tease Hyunjin and possibly rile him up again.

Hyunjin snorted, rolled his eyes, and kissed him. They kissed almost as long as they had had sex earlier, content with just closing their eyes and feeling each other. Minho especially loved to run his hands up and down Hyunjin’s back, absolutely _adoring_ the feeling of Hyunjin’s skin.

He was so in love. So, so in love.

*

But being this much in love sometimes terrified him. Sometimes it made him lose sleep at night, when he was laying next to Hyunjin and gazing at his sleeping face. This entire arrangement…it was too good to be true. He was terrified that one day something would come along and destroy what they had. What if Hyunjin decided to abandon him? Or what if the townsfolk decided they had had enough of Minho and attacked him? What would they do to Hyunjin?

Minho didn’t really care about what they would do to him anymore. He was more terrified for Hyunjin.

These fears found their way into his dreams. Turned them into nightmares. Woke him up, sweating and trembling. Sometimes the nightmares were so terrible that he cried out and Hyunjin shook him awake. Sometimes Minho woke up in tears and was sobbing so much that he couldn’t even explain to Hyunjin what had happened. Hyunjin always took him into his arms and murmured comforting words and pressed kisses to his forehead and cheeks and lips whenever that happened. Sometimes he fell back asleep in Hyunjin’s arms, sometimes he couldn’t go back to sleep no matter what.

One night, he had such a terrible dream that he couldn’t even look at Hyunjin without thinking about his dream. He just saw Hyunjin’s terrified, bloodied, tortured face that he couldn’t bear it.

He slipped out of bed and went to the window. He poured himself a drink from the crystal decanter and sipped at it, trying to get the images out of his mind. The drink didn’t help chase away the fears or the trembling whatsoever.

He thought Hyunjin was still asleep and didn’t even hear the rustling of the sheets or the creaking of the bed. All of a sudden there were just a pair of arms wrapping around his waist from behind, which made him jump.

“Shh, it’s just me,” Hyunjin murmured, pressing up against him from behind. He kissed Minho’s neck while Minho struggled to relax and breathe.

Minho closed his eyes to compose himself, saw Hyunjin from his dream again, and quickly downed the rest of his drink. He set it to the side.

Hyunjin was silent for a few moments. He pressed a few more kisses to Minho’s neck before resting his chin on Minho’s shoulder. Minho swallowed, not knowing how to explain. He couldn’t think of the right words.

Then Hyunjin said, “You were talking in your sleep.”

Minho swallowed again. “Was I?”

Hyunjin hummed in affirmation. “You were calling out for me.”

Minho’s breath caught.

When Minho didn’t say anything, Hyunjin asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

 _No_ , was Minho’s immediate response. But these nightmares weren’t going away anytime soon. Maybe discussing it would help him dispel these fears. Or maybe they would bring them to life. What if Minho spoke them and they became a reality? What if—

“You’re overthinking again,” Hyunjin said. Sometimes Minho swore he could read his mind, and sometimes that terrified him.

“I’ve been having nightmares,” he whispered.

“I know,” Hyunjin said.

“They’re about you.” When Hyunjin stayed silent, Minho took a deep breath and said, “I dream that…that they come for us, but they attack you. They attack you right in front of me and make me watch.” He shut his eyes tightly, a tear slipping out. “It’s unbearable.”

“Minho,” Hyunjin murmured, his voice full of sympathy.

“I’m terrified, Hyunjin,” Minho practically choked out the words. “I’m terrified that I’m going to lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me.”

“You don’t _know that_. You could get arrested again and hanged before I can rescue you! Or they could skip arresting you all together and just grab you and execute you right then and there. Or—you don’t die, but you leave me because—” he stopped, realizing what he was saying. He couldn’t say this.

“I am _not_ going to leave you,” Hyunjin said. “Especially not for someone else.”

“I know, it’s just…I can’t shake these fears.” Minho lowered his head, his eyes still squeezed shut.

Hyunjin was silent for a few moments. Then he gently maneuvered Minho around so he was facing him. Hyunjin put a finger under Minho’s chin and tilted his head up, forcing Minho to open his eyes and look at him.

“It’s okay to be afraid,” Hyunjin said. “It’s normal to be afraid of something. And I know I can’t make your fears go away completely, but I can help ease them a bit. I will never leave you, Minho. I love you too much. I love you so much that…” he took a deep breath. “That I want to be with you forever.”

Minho frowned, starting to have a sick feeling of where this was going.

“Minho,” Hyunjin said. “I want you to turn me.”

Minho jerked backwards. “No.”

“Not right now,” Hyunjin said, already reaching for him. Minho stepped out of his reach, swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth. “Just…think about it. Please.”

“There’s nothing to think about,” Minho said. “I won’t do it. I won’t.”

“We could be together forever if you did,” Hyunjin said. “You can’t tell me that you don’t want that.”

Minho did want that, but it was an unattainable fantasy that he did not dare indulge in.

“I can’t do that to you,” he said. “I can’t…I can’t put you in danger like that. You’re already _in_ danger just by being associated with me. I just can’t.”

Hyunjin sighed, but he didn’t push the topic any further. Instead, he just reached out to Minho again, and this time Minho let him bring him closer. Hyunjin pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes. Minho kept his eyes open, just because he still couldn’t believe that Hyunjin looked good from this angle.

Then Hyunjin murmured, “You have so much self-hatred for a part of you. I wish you’d just…” He stopped, then sighed. He never finished his thought. He ended up kissing Minho on the forehead and tugging Minho back to bed.

Minho let him, but he didn’t sleep that night. He just stayed awake, watching Hyunjin sleep.

Neither of them spoke over the next few days about Hyunjin turning. It felt like an oppressive weight, a new tension between the two of them. No matter how much they laughed and teased each other and kissed and enjoyed each other’s company, there was still that elephant in the room.

It worried Minho, since it felt like the kind of tension that could tear them apart if he wasn’t careful. He tried to think through turning Hyunjin—he really did—but he could not for the life of him see how it would be a good thing. Spending a lifetime together was one thing—but spending an eternity? How the hell could they make that work? After awhile, they’d get sick of each other—he knew they would. Maybe they’d try to kill each other. Maybe they’d just part ways and never see each other again.

Maybe Minho was just overthinking things. But his main struggle with it was the fact that he would literally be turning Hyunjin into a monster. How could Minho do that to someone he loved?

Worse, his dilemma showed up in his nightmares. Now Minho dreamed about Hyunjin as a vampire, and how his torture at the hands of the townsfolk was even more brutal and barbaric than before. Now Hyunjin was burned at the stake, staked through the heart, exorcised, or even buried alive. In one particularly bad dream, he was drawn and quartered, only _after_ they tortured him by burning crucifixes into his skin.

At least Minho didn’t wake up screaming anymore; instead he slipped out of bed and quietly went to go pour himself a drink or read a book or sit by the window. It didn’t really help clear his head, but it was something to do other than try to sleep again.

He knew he just needed to _talk_ to Hyunjin about it instead of avoid it, but he couldn’t even bring himself to do that. _Talking about it_ required giving a reason for Minho’s self-hatred, and he didn’t want to tell Hyunjin about when he had been turned. He hoped that Hyunjin would just forget about the whole thing, or that he’d realize that he didn’t want to be with Minho for eternity and change his mind entirely. That thought hurt, but, if he was honest, Minho had always seen it coming.

Inevitably, though, these thoughts and struggles all came to a head, at the worst possible timing.

It was after a long day, when Minho had spent all day working with the farmers and negotiating prices and contracts. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to just go to bed.

Hyunjin had been shut in his studio all day. When he came out, Minho was in their bathroom, enjoying a warm bath. Hyunjin walked into the bathroom, stepped out of his clothes, and climbed right into the tub with Minho.

“Hi,” Hyunjin said.

“Hi,” Minho said.

“We need to talk.”

“Right now?”

“While I’ve got your attention.”

Minho frowned at him. “You always have my attention.”

“Except for when I bring up the vampire thing,” Hyunjin said.

Minho couldn’t help sighing and looking away.

Hyunjin scowled. “See? We need to talk about it, Minho. You can’t just keep avoiding it.”

“I’m not avoiding it. I’m just not ready to talk about it.”

“When will you _ever_ be ready to talk about it?” Hyunjin sounded exasperated. “No, seriously, tell me. I promise I’ll never bring it up again until you’re ready to talk about it, but if you’re never going to be ready, then I need to know _now_.”

“So you can just nag me about it.” Minho was starting to get angry. He wasn’t sure if it was just the exhaustion of the day or the fact that it was a sensitive topic—he was just _annoyed_. Suddenly all he wanted was to just take a bath by himself. Why did Hyunjin have to barge in and nag his ear off about something he was clearly uncomfortable doing?

“I’m not nagging!” Hyunjin retorted.

“You are,” Minho scoffed. “You always nag. And even when you’re not, you give me those _looks_ like you’re trying to remind me of every single thing you nagged me about. It’s fucking _annoying_.”

“I’ve given you your space,” Hyunjin shot back. “I’ve tried to coax you into talking about it because I thought you would feel better telling me about it, but you just brushed me off. Every single time. Like you’re doing now. You can’t just keep holding this inside of you, Minho. The only way you’re going to heal is if you—”

“Funny that you bring up giving me space, because that’s the _opposite_ of what you’re doing right now,” Minho interrupted. “God, you’re like a leech. Can’t you just leave me _alone_? I didn’t need you before, and I don’t need you now, so just leave me alone and go away!”

Hyunjin blinked, hurt flashing across his face. He covered it up by clenching his jaw and glaring at Minho a moment before he stood and got out of the tub. He grabbed one of their silk robes hanging from the back of the door and stormed out of the room.

Minho knew he should have felt bad about what he said, but he couldn’t help feeling relieved instead. That suffocating tension between the two of them was finally gone. He could finally just…relax.

That is, until Hyunjin came back into the room, this time dragging something with him.

“You know what?” he said, his voice shaky. He was still glaring at Minho, but now he looked like he was on the verge of tears. “Fine. I’ll leave you alone, since you just _love_ brooding and feeling bad for yourself just because you’re different. But just so you know, I wouldn’t have cared. About the turning or being a ‘monster’ or even the fact that I’d live forever. All I cared about was being with you, because I’m hopelessly, completely in love with you, but I guess that doesn’t matter, huh? After all, someone who says they’re in love with you definitely don’t do _this_ for you, do they?”

He threw whatever he had dragged with him into the bathroom. He didn’t throw it very hard, so it didn’t fly close enough to hit Minho, but it did land on the floor right by the tub, right in a puddle of water.

It was a painting. Half-finished, but it was a portrait of Minho, with incredible likeness. Only the face was painted, and yet even Minho could see the love and effort that had gone into each brushstroke, to make it as realistic and accurate as possible.

“Hyunjin—” he started to say, looking up, but Hyunjin was already gone.

Suddenly Minho felt sick to his stomach. He got out of the tub and quickly dried off and got dressed. Then he grabbed the painting and rushed to Hyunjin’s studio.

The door was closed and locked, which didn’t surprise him. He knocked anyways, saying, “Hyunjin.”

He could hear Hyunjin crying now, the sounds muffled by the wood of the door.

Minho knocked again and pressed his forehead up against the door. “Hyunjin, come on, open the door.”

Of course Hyunjin didn’t respond. Minho still waited, hoping…

After several moments passed, filled with nothing but the sounds of Hyunjin’s sobs, Minho sighed and turned away. He went back to their bedroom, where he sat on the edge of the bed with the portrait.

He ended up staring at it and memorizing each brushstroke for the rest of the night.

*

The following morning, Minho went downstairs. He put the kettle on. His plan was to catch Hyunjin when he came down for breakfast and hopefully coax him into sitting down for a cup of tea so they could properly talk.

He was so sure that Hyunjin would come down. But Hyunjin never did.

Eventually, Minho went back upstairs and knocked on Hyunjin’s door again.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “Can you please come out? I’ll make breakfast for you. We can sit down and talk. Please?”

No answer.

Minho sighed and walked away.

Hyunjin didn’t come out for the rest of the day. Minho didn’t know what to do. He paced. He cleaned, a little. He dusted and polished sections of the drawing room and the library, then got distracted by a book and sat down to read it. He only got a few pages in before he remembered that Hyunjin was still upstairs in his room. Then he got distressed again and had to get up and move.

At one point, he stepped outside, just to get some fresh air. He walked through their gardens, but every time he tried to appreciate the beauty of it, he thought of Hyunjin’s beauty and the beauty of the painting, and then he was back to where he had started. He did pick a few flowers and tied them together to make a bouquet. He left it outside of Hyunjin’s door.

For the rest of the afternoon, he sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the wall. He took the time to think—to actually, truly think—about what Hyunjin was asking him to do, and why he was so against it.

By the time the sun went down, he had done some serious introspection, and was ready to talk.

The bouquet was gone, which meant that at some point, Hyunjin had opened the door and picked it up. Minho only hoped that Hyunjin had had enough time to cool down and that he would be ready to talk as well.

He knocked softly on Hyunjin’s door and waited for a response. To his surprise, he heard a, “What.”

“Can you please open the door?” Minho asked.

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

Minho sighed. He could work with this. They just had to talk. They didn’t necessarily have to do it face to face…

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll just…talk from here, then.”

There wasn’t a response to that, but Minho knew Hyunjin was listening.

He took a deep breath and said, “I’ve thought about it. About…turning you. I didn’t want to think about it before because…I’m scared, Hyunjin. I’m so scared. For you and for me. I’ve spent the past ten years hiding in this mansion by myself because I was scared of how people would react to me. I thought that…” He took another deep breath. “That pushing you away and letting you leave on your own would be easier than turning you, only for you to realize that it wasn’t what you expected it to be. I guess…I already hate myself for what I am. I wouldn’t be able to take it if you hated yourself for what you became or if you hated me for what I was, too. And God knows I would die if anything happened to you. But if you still really want this…then I’m willing to talk about it now.”

He waited, straining his ears for any kind of movement. His heart leapt into his throat when he heard the creak of the floorboards on the other side of the door, and then the lock turning.

The door opened, and Hyunjin stood there, his face puffier than Minho had seen in a long time. He had spent the entire day crying.

Minho felt a wave of concern and affection crash over him, and he almost reached out to Hyunjin before stopping himself just in time.

“I know you’re scared,” Hyunjin said. Even his voice sounded all thick and stuffy. “I’m scared too. But I can overcome it if I’m with you.”

Minho bit his lip and reached out to take Hyunjin’s hand. “Let’s talk,” he said.

A few moments later, they were on the chaise lounge in Hyunjin’s studio, sitting side by side, their fingers interlaced.

Minho hadn’t seen Hyunjin’s studio for a long time. It was already full of canvases and littered with paint and wood and bits of canvas and some sketchbooks here and there. There was already paint splattered in some places too. In the center of the room was the easel, with a painting sitting on top of it. But the painting had a tarp over it. Minho fought the urge to peek under it.

Hyunjin stayed silent. He was waiting for Minho to speak, and Minho knew that. He was just trying to find the right words.

“Ten years ago,” he began, “we had a visitor. He was European, I think, but he didn’t have that strong of an accent, so I don’t remember which country he was from. He might have been from Italy, I don’t know. Anyways, my father apparently knew him. The visitor was passing through, so my father invited him to stay with us. The visitor was a nice man. He had interesting stories. He used to travel the world. I liked him, though I remember thinking that there was something…off about him.”

Hyunjin’s eyes had gone wide. He was completely captivated by Minho, and Minho tried not to be distracted by it.

“That night,” he continued, “I was in bed when a scream woke me up. It sounded like my mother. I didn’t have that great of a relationship with my parents, but I still cared about them, so I got up and ran to their room. I just remember running in there and seeing blood. Blood everywhere. It had soaked through their sheets and their bed. They were both dead.”

Hyunjin gasped.

“It looked like something had ripped out their throats,” Minho said. “Some sort of animal. I started to leave, to maybe go back to my room or something, but then whatever attacked them attacked _me_. I didn’t even see it. All of a sudden something pounced on me and threw me to the floor and latched onto my neck. I think I screamed. It hurt more than anything I had ever felt before.”

He reached up to run his fingers over the twin scars on the side of his neck, practically invisible unless someone looked really, really hard. Hyunjin’s eyes followed the movement before he lifted his own fingers to touch the scars.

“It was the visitor, obviously,” Minho said. “He was a vampire, and an evil one. The only reason he didn’t kill me was because he was too gorged out on my parents that he didn’t need that much from me. Just needed a little bit, but that was enough. He turned me.”

Hyunjin had gravitated closer towards him during the story and was now pressed up against him. His presence and warmth were comforting. Minho lifted Hyunjin’s hand and kissed the back of it. Then he continued.

“The servants were freaked out of their minds because they heard the screaming, then they saw the visitor, all covered in blood with eyes so dark that they were completely black. That’s why they thought it was a ghost or something. They all ran away. They left me there to deal with both my parents’ bodies and the process of turning _alone_. It was the worst time of my life.”

Hyunjin didn’t say anything for several moments, probably thinking that Minho wasn’t finished yet. But when Minho just stared down at the floor, silent, Hyunjin asked, “What happened to the visitor?”

“He disappeared,” Minho said. “Ran off. Probably is still out there preying on people. I literally don’t even remember his name. But if I ever saw him again, I’d kill him. I’d kill him in a heartbeat for what he did to me and my parents.”

Hyunjin nodded and rested his head on Minho’s shoulder. “Thank you for telling me,” he murmured after a beat of silence. “I understand why you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to relive that.”

“It was a long time ago,” Minho said. He shifted, forcing Hyunjin to lift his head from Minho’s shoulder. Minho turned so he was facing Hyunjin and so he could take both of Hyunjin’s hands in his.

“Hyunjin,” he said. “Turning is probably the worst thing you can ever imagine. It’s not just one painful bite and then it’s over. The entire experience is excruciating. Your body is literally dying and reviving and losing parts of itself in the process. When you’re first bitten, the fangs are long and sharp and painful. The venom burns. It’ll feel like your bloodstream has been replaced by fire and electricity. Every inch of you is going to _hurt_. You’ll be feverish. You’ll hallucinate. And it’s going to be like that for about twenty-four hours straight. After that, you won’t be able to handle it anymore and pass out.”

Hyunjin’s eyes were wide again, this time with horror.

“When you wake up, you won’t be the same ever again,” Minho continued. “You’ll cut yourself constantly on your new fangs, which will be new and hypersensitive. You’ll feel weak. But you’ll also be hungry. You’ll be so hungry that you’ll be driven mad by it. All you’ll want to do is find something to eat—something with a heartbeat. And the moment you get a taste of fresh blood, you won’t be able to stop yourself.”

“But you—” Hyunjin had to stop and swallow before adding in a whisper, “You can stop yourself.”

“I learned,” Minho said. “In those first few days after I turned, I probably would have drained half the staff if they had still been around. I think I drained all of the rats in the basement and as many rabbits and deer I could catch. Even that wasn’t enough, but I had enough to come back to myself.”

“So you’re saying that there’s a possibility that I won’t be able to control myself? That I’ll just be driven mad with bloodlust?”

“The first forty-eight hours are extremely important,” Minho said. “It shapes what kind of vampire you are for the rest of your life.”

“So if something goes wrong…then I’ll be like the man who turned you?” Hyunjin had started to curl into himself. “A murderer?”

“I won’t let that happen,” Minho said, squeezing Hyunjin’s hands. “I’ll be with you every step of the way if you decide to go through with this. I’ll make sure that you don’t turn into something like that.”

Hyunjin nodded, though he was still extremely pale. He swallowed again as he processed everything Minho had said. “What else?” he asked, after a moment.

“You’ll only have to eat every few months after that,” Minho said. “You’ll mostly be the same, with a few exceptions. You won’t be able to get drunk. You won’t be able to feel warmth as often—you’ll still be able to feel it at some points, but not always. Your body won’t really process food. You can still eat it to enjoy it, but it won’t fill you up like blood does. You won’t be able to look at yourself in the mirror, or be out in the sun for too long. You won’t be able to go to church, or enter anyone else’s home without being invited. Sometimes, if there’s the scent of fresh blood, you won’t be able to control yourself. And of course…only silver, holy water, garlic, fire, and wooden stakes can hurt you. Other than that, you’ll never age, and you’ll live forever.”

Hyunjin took a deep breath and nodded slowly.

“I understand if you need some time to think about it,” Minho said. “It’s a permanent change. You can’t go back after this. I don’t want you to take it lightly.”

“I’ve already thought about it,” Hyunjin said. His grip on Minho’s hands tightened. “I want to do it. I want you to turn me, Minho. I trust you and I know you’ll be with me every single step of the way.” His eyes filled with tears. “I just wish someone had been there for you when you turned. I’ll make it up to you and make sure that someone will be with you for the rest of your life. I’ll be there for you.”

Minho sighed. “I still think it’s too soon. I think you should think about it more. This fight was just one of the many fights to come. Can you really handle fights like that between us for _eternity_?”

Hyunjin frowned to himself.

“And, if you think about it, we haven’t even known each other for that long,” Minho added. “We’ve only known each other for a couple months—it hasn’t even been a full year! Maybe we should wait until—”

Hyunjin was shaking his head. “We’re not making a mistake, Minho. I can feel it. We’re meant to be together.”

Minho grimaced at that. “That sounds so naïve, Hyunjin.”

“It’s not!” Hyunjin insisted. “It’s not, Minho, it’s not…” he trailed off, his eyes filling with tears again. He stared down at their interlaced hands.

“Give it time,” Minho said. “If you still feel this way in a couple months…we can talk about it again.”

“How long is a couple months.”

Minho shrugged. “Six?”

Hyunjin’s shoulders slumped at that.

“At least until we’ve known each other for a year,” Minho said quietly. “Please.”

Hyunjin didn’t look happy about it, but he sighed and said, “Alright.”

“Thank you.”

They sat there in silence, both of them staring down at their hands. Minho absent-mindedly began to rub circles into the backs of Hyunjin’s hands. Hyunjin didn’t pull away, so Minho figured that he liked the feeling. Minho knew for sure he liked the softness of Hyunjin’s skin.

He knew that he should do something to break the tension. That he should smile and stand up and ask if Hyunjin was hungry and move on like nothing had happened. That they should get back to the way things were before.

But things wouldn’t go back to the way they were before. At least, they wouldn’t for a long time, if ever.

Minho couldn’t help wondering if this really was the beginning of the end for them. His heart ached and sank at the thought.

Deep down, though, he always knew he’d be the one to push Hyunjin away.

He was better off alone.

*

Minho was right—things didn’t go back to the way they were before. Through the next six months, the two of them started working more than before. Hyunjin worked in his studio all day. Sometimes he’d go into town to buy more supplies. He went through paint and canvas so quickly. Minho always wanted to see Hyunjin’s paintings when he was finished, but Hyunjin only showed him a few. He said he was still trying to perfect his style and that the ones he didn’t show Minho weren’t good enough. Minho didn’t want to push him, but he couldn’t help feeling hurt about that, like Hyunjin didn’t want to share his development with Minho. Minho knew that was absurd and that creative projects were a highly personal thing, but still…he would have thought that Hyunjin would want to share that part with Minho.

He also couldn’t help noticing that the paintings Hyunjin did were all landscapes, or a still life of flowers from the garden. He didn’t do portraits anymore.

Minho still had the half-finished portrait Hyunjin had thrown at him. He kept it under their bed, and sometimes when Hyunjin was working late in his studio, Minho took it out and looked at it. He wanted to ask Hyunjin to finish it, but…he was too much of a coward.

Minho started working more in-town and on parts of the estate that had been turned into farmland or pastures for animals. He took up odd jobs here and there—like mending and hauling and delivering—, oversaw the sale of some of their produce and livestock, and even helped out on the farms. At first, people were surprised that he started doing some of the more hands-on jobs, especially since it left him sweaty, muddy, and smelling like animals. But after Minho showed no sign of flinching away from it all, they shrugged it off and were happy to order him around and give him some of the worst jobs.

Minho didn’t really care. It was something to do. Besides, if he wanted to turn this into a flourishing business, then he had to know how every single part of it worked. If that involved mucking out stalls or digging holes and such, so be it.

At one point, he _did_ come home covered in dirt and reeking of dung and cows—probably the worst he had ever looked or smelled—and Hyunjin had practically dropped the mug of tea he had in his hands.

Minho stopped in the doorway, blinking in surprise at Hyunjin, who just stared back at him.

Then Hyunjin let out a short laugh, which led him to slap a hand over his mouth, like he hadn’t meant for that to slip out. It didn’t really help, since the longer he looked at Minho, the harder it was to keep in his laughter.

Minho couldn’t help smiling as Hyunjin burst out laughing. It had been awhile since he’d seen Hyunjin laugh this hard.

“I know, I just look so sexy right now, don’t I,” Minho said.

Hyunjin couldn’t even respond because he was doubled-over from laughing so hard. “You—you smell— _so bad—_ ” He giggled again, reaching up to wipe at his eyes. “I can smell you from here, oh my god. You are not coming in the house like that.”

Minho shrugged. “Guess I’ll just have to strip down right here.”

“Mm-hmm.” Hyunjin was still giggling.

Minho ended up having to completely strip down—thankfully it was dark out—and scrubbing off some of the muck out in the back. Hyunjin was oh-so helpful, standing in the doorway, still holding his mug, grinning from ear-to-ear as he watched Minho strip and pour water over himself to get some of the mud off.

“Enjoying yourself?” Minho asked at one point.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Hyunjin replied.

At least Hyunjin had brought him towels and had been the one to heat up that bowl of water for Minho to rinse with in the first place.

Minho got back at him a few days later when Hyunjin came down for dinner completely covered in paint. He had paint in his hair, on his face, and all over his clothes. His hands were completely _covered_ in it, to the point where there was barely any skin exposed.

Minho paused from sipping at his tea to stare at Hyunjin, who drifted into the dining room with no knowledge of what he looked like whatsoever.

“You’ve got a little…” Minho gestured to Hyunjin’s face.

“Where?” Hyunjin frowned and reached up to his face. He ended up smearing more paint on himself, and Minho snorted.

“Just a little—” Minho was trying not to smile.

Hyunjin wiped at it, turning the smudge into a stripe. “Did I get it?”

Minho had to suppress his laugh as he said, “Nope.”

Hyunjin gave him a look, and Minho started giggling.

“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?”

“No…?”

Hyunjin left at that point. Minho laughed even harder when he heard Hyunjin let out a yelp of surprise at his appearance from the bathroom down the hall.

“Minho, what the hell!”

“What’d you do, roll around on some canvas?”

“No!”

It took a lot of scrubbing, but eventually Hyunjin got all of the paint off of him and out of his hair. The clothes, he decided, should best be left upstairs in the studio.

“You know,” he said later that night, when the two of them were getting ready for bed. “You gave me an idea.”

“Oh?” Minho said, arching an eyebrow. “New idea for a painting?”

“Yep.” Hyunjin was giving him that _smirk_ as he crawled onto the bed, right up to Minho. “What if…we made a painting together…?”

“I don’t think my style would look very good with yours,” Minho murmured as Hyunjin pressed their lips together.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hyunjin said in between soft kisses. “All you have to do is fuck me on a canvas while covered in paint.”

Minho snorted so hard that he had to jerk away. “I’m sorry,” he said in between laughs when he saw Hyunjin pouting at him. “I’m just—can you _imagine_ how hard it would be to get paint out of your ass? Like, come on. _Ow_.”

“Way to ruin it,” Hyunjin said, but he was smiling now too.

“It might irritate some sensitive areas!” Minho said. He wrapped his arms around Hyunjin and settled into the bed, running his hands up and down Hyunjin’s back as Hyunjin used his chest as a pillow. “What if we got paint in our mouths? That shit’s _toxic_!”

“Oh, no, stop talking, it’s so sexy,” Hyunjin joked. “I’m going to get turned on if you keep talking about all the places _paint_ can get stuck in.”

Minho snorted and kissed Hyunjin’s forehead. “Don’t lie, you’re definitely thinking about it.”

“Maybe.” Hyunjin grinned sheepishly.

Minho rolled his eyes at that.

For the record, they did _not_ go through with that plan. Minho found it was just as enjoyable to fuck Hyunjin on the studio floor. And Hyunjin found it just as inspiring, since he got an idea for a new painting right in the middle of it and almost stopped to go scribble it down.

It was times like those when Minho thought that they might actually be okay, in the end. So maybe they fought and held grudges and didn’t speak for a few days, but they always came back to each other and laughed and kissed and enjoyed each other in the end. Things would work out. Minho just had to stop worrying so much.

One day, months later, Hyunjin didn’t go to his studio. Instead, he rolled over in the morning and latched onto Minho and asked him to take the day off.

At first Minho smiled at Hyunjin’s whiny, sleepy antics. He kissed him and stayed in bed to hold him for a few minutes longer than usual, but then when he tried to pull away, Hyunjin whined again and held on tighter.

“What?” Minho asked, grinning.

“Take the day off,” Hyunjin said again. “Please?”

“Why?”

“I want you to. I want to spend the day with you.”

“I have to go to work, or else we won’t have the money to buy you new paint.”

Hyunjin pouted at him. “I don’t care about money. I care about _you_. I want to spend time with _you_.”

“You can spend time with me when I get home tonight.”

Hyunjin’s pout only deepened, especially when Minho succeeded in slipping out of his grasp and getting out of bed. He felt Hyunjin’s eyes on him the entire time he got ready, to the point where he turned around after he was finished getting dressed and found Hyunjin still staring at him sadly.

Minho sighed. “You really want me to take the day off?”

Hyunjin nodded so hard that his hair fell into his eyes.

Minho sighed again, then smiled. “Alright.”

Hyunjin sat up. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Minho’s smile widened.

Hyunjin’s entire face lit up at that as he scrambled to get out of bed. “Yay!” He threw his arms around Minho and kissed him before breaking away. He ran to go get ready.

They ended up going into town—where else?—and getting pastries from the bakery for breakfast, packing a lunch from foods bought from the farmer’s market, and then going out for a drive through the countryside. At one point they stopped and got out to eat lunch on a blanket spread out under a tree on the side of a hill. From here, they could see the estate and the town, and Hyunjin cracked jokes about how broody the mansion looked, even after they fixed it up.

“It’s still just _ominous_ ,” he said, grinning. “But now I see it less as threatening and more like socially awkward.”

Minho just snorted at that. He never thought he’d hear someone call his house _socially awkward_.

He had thought that Hyunjin would bring along an easel and paints to paint the view from here, but instead, Hyunjin just wanted to sit and enjoy the view for once. At one point he yawned and settled back onto the blanket. Minho settled down next to him, and Hyunjin automatically snuggled into his chest. They dozed off, completely content during the warm, spring day.

When Hyunjin woke up, he shifted so he could study Minho’s face, who had just woken up himself. Hyunjin smiled at him, and Minho smiled back.

Then Hyunjin seemed to remember something and exclaimed, “SHIT!” before sitting bolt-upright. He checked the time on his pocket watch and, after saying, “Shit, shit, _shit_!” one more time, told Minho that they needed to go.

Minho frowned at that. “Why? What’s the rush?”

“I, um, have something being delivered to the house,” Hyunjin said, blushing. “We need to go. Come on, come on.” He dragged a confused Minho up.

They made it back to the house just as a delivery truck was heading down the driveway. Minho stopped the car as Hyunjin jumped out and ran up to the delivery truck. After talking with the driver and signing something, he came back with a box in his hands.

“What’s that?” Minho asked.

Hyunjin grinned at him as he got back into the car. “You’ll see.”

Minho frowned but went along with it.

Once they were back inside the house, Hyunjin rushed down to the servant’s quarters, where Minho heard other voices. Apparently Hyunjin had hired some help for tonight in preparing dinner. Minho was starting to realize that something was up, especially when Hyunjin came running back upstairs, his face flushed and his hands empty, and told Minho to go put on that one fancy suit he had.

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Minho said, frowning.

“You know, the one with the ruffled shirt that really makes you look like a stereotypical, sexy vampire.” Hyunjin grinned.

Minho was still confused and skeptical, but he went along with it. When he came back downstairs, he found Hyunjin in the dining room, dressed in the same fancy attire. Minho paused in the doorway, surprised at the sight of the table set with their finest china, their candelabras out and polished and lit, and an arrangement of flowers in the dead center. The record player was in the corner, softly playing one of Hyunjin’s favorite albums.

“See? You knew what I meant,” Hyunjin said, smiling as he walked over to Minho and adjusted his collar.

“What’s all this?” Minho asked.

Hyunjin shrugged, his smile coy. “Just…something. Here, sit down.” He pulled out Minho’s chair at the end of the table. Minho sat down, and Hyunjin sat down in his chair to Minho’s right.

A moment later, servants walked in and deposited a dish in front of both of them. One of them filled their crystal glasses with red wine. Minho frowned at Hyunjin.

“Okay, what’s going on,” Minho said. “You got hired help to serve us dinner?”

“Maybe I just wanted a nice dinner.” Hyunjin shrugged as he picked up his wine and sipped at it. “We’ve both been so busy lately that I just…wanted to have a nice dinner together.” He fidgeted, now looking worried. “Is this…okay?”

“Yes!” Minho said quickly. “I guess I’m…confused? This is so out of the blue.”

“I know, I just…” Hyunjin sighed. “I wanted to spend time with you.”

Minho smiled and reached out to take Hyunjin’s hand. Hyunjin looked up and smiled when Minho took it and squeezed it.

“I want to spend time with you too,” he said.

It was definitely weird, having servants again. But it was nice. Minho found that he had missed having hired help, and even though he didn’t really have enough nowadays to spend on kitchen staff, it was still nice every once in awhile.

And for once, he and Hyunjin just…talked. They talked about anything and everything. Hyunjin talked about his work, and Minho did likewise. They talked about the house, about possibly buying new furniture for some sections. They talked about traveling in the future, about visiting different countries. And Hyunjin brought up selling some of his work to bring in more money.

“I think it would be cool to create my own exhibit, you know?” Hyunjin was blushing and staring down at his plate. “That way I can really show the world what I can do. That I’m not just some thief anymore.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Minho said, smiling.

Hyunjin smiled back, and that’s when the servants came in one last time, this time with a giant chocolate cake with strawberries and candles on top. Minho frowned at it as they set it down in between him and Hyunjin.

“Hyunjin,” he said, finally figuring it out. “Is it your birthday?”

Hyunjin blushed again and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know…it just felt…weird?” Hyunjin sighed. “I wasn’t sure if you still celebrated birthdays as a vampire. You’ve never mentioned your birthday, so I wasn’t sure if you were, like, against them or something.” He shook his head. “It’s stupid. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Minho said. He smiled. “How old are you today?”

“Twenty-one.”

“Oh, jeez. Twenty-one. You’re getting old.”

Hyunjin snorted and shoved his shoulder playfully. Minho grinned.

“You know, I was twenty-two when I turned,” he said.

“I know.” Hyunjin smiled. “Do you still feel twenty-two?”

“Mm, sort of. Technically I’m thirty-three now.” Minho made a face. “ _That’s_ strange.”

Hyunjin smiled at that.

Minho smiled back at him and nodded at the cake. “Well, you should probably blow out your candles. All twenty-one of them.”

“Yeah, and make a wish.” Hyunjin turned towards the cake and closed his eyes. After a moment, he opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and blew out all the candles on the first try.

Minho clapped at that, and they started cutting up the cake. It was a simple cake, just chocolate with a creamy chocolate frosting, as well as a dollop of cream and a single strawberry on each piece. Minho thought it looked delicious and was delighted to find that it tasted even better than it looked.

“What’d you wish for?” he asked Hyunjin, his tone light and teasing.

“For us to be together forever,” Hyunjin said.

Minho’s smile faded. “I was…I was kidding. I didn’t mean for you to actually tell me. Now it won’t come true.”

Hyunjin shrugged. “I don’t really believe in superstitions like that. Besides, it’s the same wish I’ve held in my heart ever since I met you.”

Minho was silent as he stared down at his cake.

“Have you ever thought about it?” Hyunjin asked.

“What? Being together forever? Of course I have.”

“No, I mean…have you ever thought about the fact that you’ll never age, but I will? One day I’m not going to be young and beautiful anymore. Doesn’t that bother you?”

Minho had honestly never thought about it. It would be strange, he realized, to live with Hyunjin for the rest of Hyunjin’s life, to watch Hyunjin grow older and older. To watch him die of old age. But maybe Minho never thought about it because…he never thought they’d actually get that far.

“I haven’t thought about it,” he said.

“I have,” Hyunjin said quietly. “I think about it all the time.”

“I guess I…I never thought we’d last that long.” Minho sighed. “I thought that you’d realize you don’t want to spend your life with an immortal vampire, so you’d go and find someone else who you can grow old with. Someone who understands you better.”

“Thought or hoped.” Hyunjin’s eyebrows were in a straight line now.

“Why the hell would I _hope_ you’d find someone else?” Minho looked at him, appalled. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

“You don’t want me to leave, but you don’t want me to stay forever, either. Make up your _mind!_ ”

Minho shoved his plate with his half-eaten cake away from him. “Oh, so that’s what this is. This is you bringing up being turned again.”

“It’s been _months,_ ” Hyunjin said. “I haven’t brought it up at all since you told me not to. But I’ve still thought about it, and my answer is still the same. I don’t want to find someone else. I don’t want to grow old with someone else, or grow old at all. I want to stay with you forever. How many times do I have to tell you that before you get it?”

Minho just shook his head. He didn’t know how to respond, so they sat in silence for several minutes, during which Hyunjin stared at him, and Minho stared at his plate.

“I could still leave you even after you turn me,” Hyunjin mumbled. “It’s not like we’re getting married.”

“No,” Minho said. “Getting married would be much easier.”

Hyunjin shook his head, pushed back in his chair, and stood. He walked out of the dining room without another word.

*

Minho cleaned up everything by himself and sent all of the hired staff home, promising to send them a paycheck in the following days. Then he headed upstairs, where he thought Hyunjin would be locked away in his studio again. Instead, he found Hyunjin in their room, already changed out of his suit and curled up in their bed instead. His clothes were flung over various pieces of furniture, like he had stripped on his way to the bed. Minho stopped to pick up each article of clothing so he didn’t accidentally slip on something in the middle of the night.

He sat down on the edge of the bed next to Hyunjin, who was trying his hardest to look like he was asleep. It didn’t fool Minho for a moment.

“Maybe we should,” Minho said, staring straight ahead.

“What,” Hyunjin mumbled.

“Get married.”

Hyunjin opened his eyes at that.

“We’ve been living together,” Minho said. “We’ve been in love. We plan on living together while being in love for a few more months at least. Do you think we could make it?”

“That’s just wishful thinking,” Hyunjin scoffed. “People like us can’t get married. We can’t even hold hands in public. You know that.”

“We could create our own ceremony. Make vows. Have cake. It just…won’t have a priest. Or witnesses, I guess.” Minho sighed, steeling himself for the next few words. “And…to, I don’t know, consummate it, I could…bite you.”

Hyunjin snorted at that. “We’ve already had sex, Minho. Having sex on our fake wedding night isn’t going to make it any more official.”

“I know, but…” Minho sighed again. “I’m saying I’ll turn you.”

Hyunjin looked up. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah,” Minho said quietly. “Turning you is kind of like getting married, so…we could do both at the same time.”

Hyunjin blinked.

“And you’re right.” Minho looked down at his hands. “You could still leave me after I turn you. You could still find someone else if you really wanted. Could even turn them if you were happier with them than with me. It’s really…I guess it’s really not that big of a change.”

Hyunjin took a deep breath and cupped both sides of Minho’s face. He forced Minho to look him in the eyes.

“Minho,” he said in a gentle yet serious tone. “If you want to create vows for our fake wedding, then here is my vow—I vow to never, ever leave you or abandon you. I vow to love you for the rest of my life, and to always choose you no matter what. I only ask that you do the same for me.”

Minho had to swallow the lump in his throat before replying. “I vow to do the same for you.”

Hyunjin nodded, his own eyes filling with tears. He hugged Minho then, and Minho hugged him back like he was going to disappear.

“I’m sorry I ruined your birthday,” Minho whispered.

“You didn’t,” Hyunjin said. “Besides, my wish came true.”

Minho snorted. “It’s a little soon for that, don’t you think?”

He could practically hear the smile in Hyunjin’s voice. “I didn’t tell you what I actually wished for. I made one up so my real wish would come true.”

“You’re so superstitious.”

“Hell yeah I am.”

They spent the rest of the night laughing and cuddling and staring into each other’s eyes. They even decided on a date for when they would have their own wedding ceremony and for when Minho would turn Hyunjin.

For the first time in a long time, Minho felt lighter. He didn’t feel as scared.

And when he fell asleep, he didn’t have any nightmares.

*

They began their preparations for their unofficial wedding day. Hyunjin got to choose the date, though of course he ran it by Minho. They set it for two weeks from that Friday, giving them a decent amount of time to order flowers and cake, to write their own vows, and to get a photographer.

The photographer was Minho’s idea. He wasn’t entirely sure if he would even show up in photos, and he didn’t really know the entire process that went behind photographs, but he didn’t think any of it dealt with silver. He wanted to try it anyways.

He thought about making it a surprise but decided against it. He told Hyunjin the night before, giving Hyunjin plenty of time to figure out an outfit. Hyunjin was so excited that he picked out Minho’s outfit too. He even helped Minho style his hair and add bits of makeup, since Minho couldn’t see his reflection.

Minho smiled at Hyunjin that morning when Hyunjin did his makeup. The two of them were sitting across from each other in their bedroom, by the vanity. Minho studied Hyunjin’s face as Hyunjin focused on adding the slightest bit of eyeliner and mascara, as well as a little bit of concealer here and there to cover up blemishes (not that Minho had many). He also added the faintest trace of color to Minho’s cheeks and lips, just so he wouldn’t look as pale and pasty in the photograph.

Minho had to stay extremely still, but he didn’t mind. He enjoyed the experience more than he wanted to admit, like how he could feel Hyunjin’s body heat from how close he was or how endearing the soft and the gentle touches to his face were. He could fall asleep like this, just studying the graceful slopes and panes of Hyunjin’s face, the catlike tilt of his eyes—with that one beauty mark right under his left eye that just accentuated his dark eyes—and those kissable, plump lips that were parted just slightly as Hyunjin concentrated on his work.

“You’re beautiful,” Minho breathed at one point, unable to stop himself.

“And so are you,” Hyunjin said, smiling back. He put the finishing touches to Minho’s makeup but didn’t pull back. “Except now you look ethereal.”

“Not like a prostitute?”

Hyunjin snorted at that, his breath fanning out across Minho’s face. “Well, no, because _I_ got to do your makeup, not you.” He smiled.

Minho rolled his eyes and kissed him.

“Just saying, I _am_ an artist,” Hyunjin murmured against Minho’s lips.

“Uh huh.” Minho just cupped both sides of his face in order to kiss him harder.

They ended up kissing for so long that Minho accidentally wore off all of his lip color. Hyunjin just laughed, planted one last kiss on his lips, and redid the makeup.

Soon the photographer arrived, and Minho led him into the drawing room, with the fireplace and one of Hyunjin’s landscape paintings hanging above it as the backdrop. It only took an hour or so, though it felt like just a few minutes, since Minho had difficulty taking his eyes off of Hyunjin for even a moment.

He met with the photographer afterwards, after Hyunjin had gone upstairs to change already. The photos would be processed and delivered by the wedding date. Minho smiled.

The wedding date arrived in the blink of an eye. Minho woke up, rolled over, and found Hyunjin already awake and blinking at him. He smiled, and Minho smiled back before pulling him close and kissing him.

“Nervous?” Minho asked in between kisses.

“A bit,” Hyunjin replied, sighing contently. “More excited than anything.”

Minho smiled as he pressed their foreheads together. “It’s going to be amazing.”

They had discussed inviting others to their unofficial wedding but ultimately decided against it. Most people around here just thought that the two of them were good friends—like brothers, almost. Neither Minho nor Hyunjin wanted to turn the goodwill of the townsfolk against them by revealing that they were a _bit_ more intimate than “good friends.” So they planned it as something just between them.

Most of the day was spent setting up. Minho coordinated with the hired kitchen help, who came and prepared the meal ahead of time and would leave once it was ready without serving it. Hyunjin worked with the florists to set up the actual location. It was in the heart of the garden, by the single fountain. They found a way to light up the fountain, then placed a variety of lily of the valley, hydrangeas, ranunculus, and gardenias—all in white—around the area. Then, after they left, Hyunjin placed a series of candles around the area and lit them when the sun began to set.

Finally, everything was ready. Minho dressed in his usual dark suit, and so did Hyunjin. Hyunjin also helped him with his makeup again, though this time it wasn’t as extensive. Then they walked down to the garden, hand-in-hand.

Along the way down the path to the fountain, Minho paused and plucked two of the gardenias. He stood and tucked one behind Hyunjin’s ear, then tucked the other behind his own.

“I was about to yell at you for picking those flowers,” Hyunjin said.

Minho grinned. “I know, I saw the look of horror on your face. But, I figured, since we don’t have any bouquets, this might suffice?”

“Technically the tradition is to put the flower through the lapel,” Hyunjin said.

“ _Technically_.” Minho rolled his eyes.

“But I like this one much better.” Hyunjin smiled. He reached out to touch Minho’s flower, his eyes sparkling.

Minho gave him a soft smile in response. “Me too.”

They stopped in front of the fountain, under a lattice archway. The florists had woven some of the flowers into the gaps, making the archway that much more magical. Minho smiled as he took in the area.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, looking at Hyunjin, who was even more breathtaking in the candlelight.

“It looks like a fairy garden,” Hyunjin said with a smile that made his eyes crinkle. “Magical.”

They faced each other at that point, and Minho took both of Hyunjin’s hands in his. He took a deep breath, surprised that he could still feel butterflies in his stomach. Hyunjin was still smiling at him, looking happier than Minho had ever seen. He was positively radiant, glowing from the inside out. Minho looked at him and felt it in his chest, knowing deep down that this was right, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this man.

“You’re glowing,” Minho whispered.

“You should see yourself,” Hyunjin said. “You’ve never looked so alive.”

Minho smiled at him. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?”

“Instead of rings…I thought of something else.”

Hyunjin tilted his head to one side curiously. Minho gave him a wink before reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulling out a tiny, navy blue box, adorned with gold flakes. He took a deep breath before opening it towards Hyunjin, who gasped at what lay on a silk cushion inside.

It was a golden locket, the metal embellished with tiny flowers and vines. Minho gently lifted it from the box, dropping Hyunjin’s hands as he did so. Hyunjin watched with wide eyes, looking deeply touched.

“Hyunjin,” Minho said. “Will you take this as a token of my love?”

“Yes,” Hyunjin whispered, tears in his eyes. “ _Yes_.”

Minho smiled. Hyunjin bowed his head so Minho could slip the chain over him and around his neck. Hyunjin straightened up, already lifting a hand to the locket as it rested against his chest. Minho gently opened the locket, showing Hyunjin the real reason he was giving it to him.

Hyunjin gave a soft gasp at the sight of Minho’s tiny photograph.

“This way, I’ll always be with you,” Minho said. “I’ll always be close to your heart, even if for some reason we’re apart.”

“I’ll never take it off,” Hyunjin whispered, meaning every single word.

Minho smiled as he reached up to cup Hyunjin’s face. Hyunjin leaned into his touch, closing his eyes for a few moments.

When he opened them, he asked, “Do I have one for you?”

“Of course. I’ll pretend to be surprised when you open it.” Minho smirked as he pulled out another box from his inside pocket. Hyunjin took it from him and hid it behind his back, grinning.

“Close your eyes,” Hyunjin said.

“Ooh, a surprise?” Minho grinned too as he closed his eyes.

There was some shifting, and then the feeling of Hyunjin’s fingers on his hair. A chain slipped over his head and rested against his neck. Then Hyunjin said, “Okay, open!”

Minho opened his eyes and looked down to see the twin locket hanging around his neck. Hyunjin pried it open just like Minho had, revealing his own photograph inside.

“With you, always,” Hyunjin said. “So whenever you miss me, you can see me. Or if you’re about to do something stupid, you can look at my picture and ask, _what would Hyunjin do?_ If I would nag you about it afterwards, then you probably shouldn’t do it.”

Minho laughed, and Hyunjin grinned.

“I love you,” Minho said. “More than anything else in the world. I can’t even put into words how much I love you, and how badly I want to be with you forever.”

Hyunjin’s eyes shone at that. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear that.”

“I mean every single word, from the bottom of my heart. My heart, which is now yours, completely and wholly.”

“Since when did you get so good with words?”

“You like it? It only took me ten drafts.”

Hyunjin laughed; the sound was like music to Minho’s ears. His favorite melody.

“My hand was covered in ink by the end of it,” Minho said. “Bottom line is—I love you, I love you, _I love you_.”

Hyunjin was smiling so widely that his eyes were barely visible.

“I love you too,” he said. “All of this you already know, but I know you’ll never get tired of hearing it, just like I’ll never get tired of saying it. I love you through and through, Lee Minho. I love your selflessness, and your kindness, but I also love your sassiness and wit. I love you on your good days, and I love you even more on your bad days, because I know you love me just the same. I love you so much that sometimes it scares me, just like I know it scares you. But I also know that I’ve never been braver than I have been with you. I want to be happy with you for the rest of my life.”

Minho felt something wet on his face, but before he could reach up and wipe it away, Hyunjin beat him to it. With a soft smile, Hyunjin brushed Minho’s tears away with his thumb.

“Can I kiss you yet?” Minho asked,

Hyunjin laughed, and Minho tugged him closer. He didn’t have to tug much, though, because Hyunjin was already leaning forward. Minho met him halfway and kissed him like his life depended on it. By the end of it, he was breathless, but electricity was coursing through his veins. He had never felt so alive as he did in that moment.

They walked back to the house, hand-in-hand, leaning into each other, not wanting to part even for a moment. At dinner, they sat and ate from their finest dishes, listening to their favorite music on the record player. They talked, though sometimes the silence was enough, and they just gazed at each other and smiled.

When dinner was over, Hyunjin jumped up, his face full of excitement.

“I have a wedding gift for you,” he said.

“Is it you in lace undergarments?” Minho asked.

Hyunjin pouted. “No, that was supposed to be a _surprise_ for later.”

Minho grinned shamelessly. “Oops.”

“It’s just upstairs, give me one moment.” Hyunjin dashed away, grinning.

Minho laughed, his heart swelling with so much love that he thought it would burst. At least if it did burst, he’d still be okay.

Hyunjin came running in a few minutes later, still grinning. He was empty-handed, but he took Minho’s hand and pulled him out of his chair. “Come on, come on,” Hyunjin said, tugging him out of the dining room and down the hall, to the foyer. Before they could get there, though, Hyunjin stopped and positioned himself behind Minho so he could cover Minho’s eyes.

“I’m trusting you not to walk me into a wall,” Minho said as Hyunjin guided him forward.

“As funny as that would be—” Hyunjin laughed.

Finally they came to a stop, and Hyunjin said, “Are you ready?”

“So ready,” Minho said.

Hyunjin made a little squealing noise before dropping his hands. “Ta-daaa!” he sang out.

Minho blinked a few times before looking up at the fireplace, where a massive, almost life-sized painting hung. He took one look at it and gasped, his eyes widening.

It was _him_. A portrait of _him._ It looked so realistic that for a moment Minho wondered if he was finally seeing his reflection in a mirror.

In the portrait, he was dressed in his finest suit, paired with the white blouse with the ruffled collar and sleeves that were longer than the sleeves of his suit. He lounged in an armchair like a king, one arm draped over the arm of the chair, while Lucy curled at his feet. The background was black and minimal, with only a single, red, silk curtain draping from an unknown source, the color of which only complimented the natural reddish tint to Minho’s perfect lips.

But what really topped it all off was the crown atop Minho’s head, laden with fine jewels such as rubies and diamonds, as well as gold and silver. The Minho in the portrait wore it like it was effortless, like he was born into such regality, and like leadership and prestige came naturally to him.

It was stunning. Minho had truly never seen anything like it, not even in his own reflection before he turned.

“Do you like it?” Hyunjin was watching his reaction while chewing on a thumbnail. “I’ve been working on it for awhile. Did you know that whenever I have a creative block, I sketch you? I probably have an entire sketchbook upstairs _just_ of sketches of you. Some of them turn into paintings, but most are just sketches…”

“I love it,” Minho breathed, unable to take his eyes off the painting. He turned to look at Hyunjin. “It’s _beautiful,_ Hyunjin, and I’m not just saying that just because it’s me.”

Hyunjin grinned at that. “Oh, good, I was worried.”

Minho kissed him then, and Hyunjin grinned into it. “You’re an incredible artist,” Minho murmured. “Probably the best I’ve ever seen.”

Hyunjin blushed at that, but he was smiling.

“I have no doubt that one day you will go down in the history books as one of the greatest painters of all time.”

“Keep talking like that, and you’re going to have to take me right here.”

Minho grinned, though it had a bit of wickedness to it now. “Well then let’s take this upstairs, shall we? Husband?”

“Oh, god.” Hyunjin’s knees gave out. “I don’t even know if I’ll make it that far.”

Minho laughed before kissing him one last time. Then he took his hand and started leading him upstairs.

“Seriously, I was about to pounce on you down there, I swear,” Hyunjin said, already tugging off his suit jacket.

“You can still pounce, if you want. Sounds sexy.”

Hyunjin snorted, but the moment they stepped into their bedroom, he tackled Minho to the bed. Minho laughed as Hyunjin started kissing him all over, though he focused mainly on his neck.

“Excited, huh?” Minho smiled, though he sounded somewhat breathless now, especially from the way Hyunjin was sucking a mark into the perfect spot on his neck. His hand flew up to Hyunjin’s hair, where he weaved his fingers into the strands. Hyunjin groaned as Minho gave a few tugs.

“You have no idea,” Hyunjin murmured. His voice sent a shiver down Minho’s spine. It was so low and velvety and _desperate_. Drove Minho absolutely wild.

Hyunjin pulled back at that point, and Minho tried to drag him back. But Hyunjin swatted away Minho’s hand with a cheeky grin as he straddled Minho’s waist and reached up to the buttons of his shirt.

Minho watched, his eyes boring into his new husband, as Hyunjin started slowly unbuttoning his shirt, revealing a black lace bra. Just the mere sight of it ignited something in Minho that he had never felt before.

“Oh my god,” he managed to say.

“Wasn’t kidding earlier,” Hyunjin purred. “How’s this for a wedding gift?”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Minho said hoarsely, unable to hold himself back any longer. He sat up and tugged Hyunjin closer as he started kissing the side of Hyunjin’s neck, all the way down to his collarbones, then down his chest. Hyunjin laughed, but his laughs turned into moans as Minho sucked at his skin _just right_.

Within minutes, Hyunjin’s neck and chest were all marked up, and Hyunjin was already trembling as he gripped the hair on the back of Minho’s head.

“Minho,” he breathed. “Minho, _please_.”

“Are you ready?” Minho murmured against Hyunjin’s skin. He pushed the lace out of the way and took a nipple into his mouth. Hyunjin jolted, his grip in Minho’s hair turning almost painful as he began to move his hips, grinding against Minho in a way that almost drove Minho over the edge right then and there. Hyunjin just had that effect on him.

“Yes,” Hyunjin gushed. “Yes, yes, yes. I want you.”

Minho pulled back, and Hyunjin whined in protest. But Minho wasn’t pulling back to be a tease (well, not _only_ to be a tease). He reached up and gently cupped Hyunjin’s face in his hands, forcing Hyunjin to look at him.

“That’s not what I was asking,” Minho said gently. “Are you _sure_ you’re ready, love?”

Hyunjin nodded so hard that his hair fell in his eyes. “I’ve never been so sure of something in my life,” he said. “I’m ready, Minho. Turn me.”

Minho smiled, then kissed Hyunjin softly and sweetly on the mouth. “Okay,” he whispered, pulling back. He gazed at Hyunjin for a few moments before grinning wickedly again. “But first I’m going to make you feel _amazing_.”

Hyunjin let out a moan, and Minho’s grin widened.

“You get so worked up so easily,” Minho said.

“Stop talking and fuck me already.”

“Demanding.” But Minho wasted no time in flipping them, where he more or less threw Hyunjin onto the bed. Then he wrapped a finger around a belt loop and started tugging Hyunjin’s pants off.

Of course, once they were off, he found the rest of Hyunjin’s wedding gift.

“You got the full matching set, huh?” Minho said.

“Pfft, _yeah_ ,” Hyunjin said, already wiggling his hips, probably more to show off the black lace underwear than anything. “Couldn’t just do _half—_ who does that?”

“God, you’re incredible. I love you.”

Hyunjin positively swelled under the praise. “I got some very interesting looks when I bought this, let me tell you.”

Minho snorted and crawled up to kiss him. “Tell me tomorrow?”

“I plan on it.” Hyunjin smiled.

Minho gave him one last smile before kissing the side of his neck again. Hyunjin sighed and arched up into him, especially as Minho started trailing down again, though this time he didn’t stop at the lace bra. He went all the way down to where Hyunjin was most sensitive, and then purposely avoided the exact location. He kissed the inside of Hyunjin’s thighs instead, while holding Hyunjin down by a hand on his hip.

“You’re a—a _tease_ ,” Hyunjin choked out, too riled up to really speak properly.

“I know.” Minho gave him a wink paired with a charming smile, which made Hyunjin snort.

“Jerk,” Hyunjin said.

“That’s the best you can do?”

“Well, I have a bunch of other insults that could probably— _oh_.”

Minho took that exact moment to push the lace out of the way and take Hyunjin into his mouth. Hyunjin choked off his words with a moan as he tried to buck up into Minho’s mouth, but Minho held him down by the hip. Hyunjin then decided the best way to anchor himself was to grab onto Minho’s hair again, and tugged every single time Minho held him down. He whined more when Minho drove him to the edge, only to pull off at the last possible minute.

“I hate you,” Hyunjin said without any heat, his entire body trembling.

Minho pressed a soft kiss into his hipbone. “Love you too.”

“When are you going to fu— _mmph_.” Hyunjin’s hand flew up to his mouth to smother his moan as Minho took him again. At this point, Hyunjin could barely speak other than to whimper, “ _Minho, Minho, Minho—_ ”

Minho pulled back once again when he brought Hyunjin to the edge, and Hyunjin let out a choked scream, partially out of frustration. Minho grinned and crawled up so he was hovering over Hyunjin’s face.

“You’ve been so good,” Minho said, brushing the back of his hand over Hyunjin’s cheek. “Think you’re ready, baby?”

Hyunjin was so worked up that he couldn’t even get the words out, causing Minho to cup his face and say, “Hmm? What’s that?”

“ _Fuck me_ ,” Hyunjin hissed.

Minho couldn’t help grinning. He kissed Hyunjin one last time before saying, “Okay.”

He decided to stop teasing Hyunjin so much, partially because Hyunjin had already been so good, and partially because he wasn’t sure if _he_ could take it. Hyunjin was just so gorgeous, all pleading and shaking like this.

He did tease him a little bit more, deciding to kiss him the entire time he prepped him. Hyunjin loved that, greedily kissing Minho back, practically falling apart in his hands.

Minho pulled back one last time, already opening his mouth to say something, but Hyunjin beat him to it.

“Don’t you _dare_ ask me if I’m ready again,” Hyunjin spat.

Minho grinned at him. “Wasn’t going to. I was going to ask if you wanted to help get me out of these—”

Hyunjin didn’t even need to be told twice. He practically ripped Minho’s shirt open to get it unbuttoned, then unzipped Minho’s pants and wrapped a hand around what he found there.

Minho jumped, though he should have seen that coming. Besides, the devilish grin on Hyunjin’s face was worth it.

“Payback,” Hyunjin said.

“Fair,” Minho said, reaching out and brushing Hyunjin’s hair out of his face.

“Can I—?” Hyunjin asked.

“You want to? I thought you wanted me to fuck you.”

“I do, but I want to make you feel good first.”

Minho smiled at that. “Go ahead.”

Hyunjin didn’t hesitate as he swallowed Minho whole. Minho gasped and grabbed Hyunjin’s hair. He had found out the hard way that Hyunjin was _way_ better with his mouth than Minho was, which was both annoying and incredible at the same time.

Hyunjin gave him the same treatment, mercilessly working Minho up with his tongue, only to pull off at the last moment. He especially liked to dig his tongue into the slit, which almost made Minho lose control completely as he cried out. Minho managed to hold himself back from fucking up into Hyunjin’s mouth, but near the end, he was losing his grip.

Finally Hyunjin pulled back and looked up at Minho with those big, gorgeous eyes of him, full of so much love and lust that it took Minho’s breath away.

“I’m not going to last long,” Minho murmured.

“Me either,” Hyunjin said with a grin. “But we can always do it multiple times.”

Minho hated how his body reacted to that.

Hyunjin’s grin widened. “Thought you might like that.”

Minho responded by shoving him back onto the bed. He paused for a split second to give Hyunjin a look that asked the silent question, and Hyunjin responded by spreading his legs wider. Minho wasted no time in lining himself up and slipping right into him.

He set a brutal pace, enjoying the noises Hyunjin made, then slowed down so he could capture Hyunjin’s lips in a kiss. Hyunjin moaned into his mouth as Minho picked up a slower pace, thrusting into him just right. But Minho was already on the edge and knew he wasn’t going to last long, so he picked up the pace a little bit more. When Hyunjin reacted loudly at that, Minho wrapped his arms around him and hugged him as tightly as he could as he put all of his energy into making him feel as good as possible.

Soon Hyunjin was screaming his name, as well as, “I’m close, I’m close, don’t stop, don’t stop _please—_ ”

Minho kept going, though he closed his eyes and focused on pulling out his fangs, since they didn’t react as easily as one would think. When he gave one last thrust, and Hyunjin cried out as he came, he took a deep breath and sank his fangs into the side of Hyunjin’s neck.

He expected Hyunjin to scream and flinch away, but he had chosen the right time. Hyunjin was too blissed out to do anything other than lay there, and he even moaned when the venom entered him. Though the fact that both of them were riding out their orgasms probably helped a lot.

Minho pulled out after a few moments, his nerves already destroying any enjoyment he had had from before. “Hyunjin?” he asked, reaching out to cup Hyunjin’s face again. “Talk to me. Please, please talk to me.”

“Minho,” Hyunjin slurred, his eyes unfocused as he tried to look Minho in the eye.

“How do you feel?”

Hyunjin blinked a few times, still dazed, before he let out a cry and convulsed. “ _Hurts_ ,” he whimpered. “It hurts, it hurts, _Minho—_ ”

Minho gathered Hyunjin in his arms and hugged him tightly, even as Hyunjin’s entire body jolted every few seconds. “I’m sorry,” Minho whispered, his eyes already filling with tears. _This was a mistake_. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Hyunjin responded with a choked sob.

That night was the longest of Minho’s entire life. He didn’t know what to do other than to just sit there, watching. He tried to make Hyunjin as comfortable as possible by changing him out of the lingerie and wiping him down with a damp cloth. He tucked him in and put another damp cloth on his forehead, hoping that would help. He could do nothing more than sit there and hold Hyunjin’s hand, wishing there was something else he could do for him.

At one point, Hyunjin had such severe convulsions that Minho climbed into bed with him and held him tightly, murmuring words of comfort and encouragement. He had no idea if Hyunjin heard them, but he liked to think that he did.

When Hyunjin quieted down, Minho couldn’t help it anymore and started weeping. This was wrong. This whole thing was so wrong. It was such a bad idea…

What if Hyunjin wasn’t strong enough? What if the venom didn’t turn him completely, and it killed him instead? Minho wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

Worse, what if it turned him, but made him a completely different person? What if he became so bloodthirsty that he turned into a monster, like the man who had turned Minho? Minho would have no choice but to kill him.

What if, what if, what if. Minho had never been so terrified in his life.

After the first twenty-four hours, Minho climbed out of bed and went downstairs, to the ice box. He pulled out the leather water skins full of animal blood, which he had bought from some of the local farmers. Then he carried them slowly upstairs, careful not to spill. Once in the bedroom, he laid down tarps around the bed, so when Hyunjin did need the blood, it wouldn’t stain the carpet. He figured there was no saving the bed, but that was fine with him. They could get another one. Carpet, on the other hand, was a bit more difficult to replace so quickly without raising suspicions.

Minho set the skins on a table next to the bed, then crawled into bed again and wrapped Hyunjin in his arms. He pressed a kiss to Hyunjin’s sweaty forehead, and Hyunjin stirred.

“Minho?” he asked, his eyelids fluttering.

“I’m here,” Minho said. “I’m here, love.”

Hyunjin’s eyelids fluttered a few moments more before he was finally strong enough to open them. Minho could tell that he was still delirious by the look in his eye.

Hyunjin stared at him for a few moments before saying, “I hate you.”

Minho gasped at that. Hyunjin wasn’t even teasing. He looked completely serious.

“How could you?” Hyunjin whispered, his brow furrowing. “How could you do this to me?”

“Stop,” Minho said. “You’re delirious, you don’t know what’s going on, you aren’t yourself.”

“How could you…” Hyunjin whispered once again before convulsing. This one was violent and painful, and a pitiful groan escaped his lips. Minho hugged him through it, his eyes squeezed shut, his own body shaking from barely suppressed sobs.

“I’m sorry,” Minho whispered, over and over and over again.

_I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—_

The convulsions stopped completely a few hours later. Hyunjin woke up lucid, though he frantically called out Minho’s name. Minho was sitting by the window with his back turned to Hyunjin, but he rushed to Hyunjin’s side the moment Hyunjin called for him.

“How are you feeling?” Minho brushed Hyunjin’s sweaty hair out of his face.

“Tired,” Hyunjin said hoarsely. “And hungry. So, so hungry.”

Minho’s eyes went to the sharp fangs in Hyunjin’s mouth. They were out in full, as long as they could go. They just barely reached the top of Hyunjin’s bottom lip and scraped at the soft flesh when he spoke.

“I have some blood for you,” Minho said. “Can you sit up?”

“Mm.” Hyunjin nodded. Minho helped him sit up, then brought the first skin to him. The moment Hyunjin smelled the blood, he lunged at him, making Minho yelp and drop the skin. Hyunjin caught it and didn’t even use the nozzle. Instead, he tore right into the skin, causing it to burst like a bubble. Blood went everywhere, and Hyunjin did his best to lick it all up before it fell onto the floor.

Minho stood off to the side, slightly horrified.

Hyunjin finished licking the blood off his fingers and looked up at Minho. His eyes were brighter than Minho had ever seen them, and covered in blood, he looked like a madman.

No, he looked like a monster.

Hyunjin sniffed the air. “You have more?”

“You can’t tear into it like that,” Minho said. “You need to drink from the bottle like a normal person.”

Hyunjin’s lip curled at that, and Minho swallowed back his fear. He picked up another water skin but held it out of Hyunjin’s reach when Hyunjin tried to grab it from him.

“No,” Minho said. “Snap out of it, Hyunjin. This isn’t you.”

“I’m so hungry,” Hyunjin said. It sounded like a growl, or a whine. It didn’t sound human.

“You’ll continue to be hungry if you don’t drink the blood like I tell you,” Minho said. He hated having to do this, but it was the only way.

Hyunjin glowered, and Minho glared back, unflinching. After a few tense moments, Hyunjin relented.

“Don’t grab at it,” Minho ordered, cautiously sitting down on the edge of the bed. He held the water skin up to Hyunjin’s lips. “Just drink. I’ll pour it for you.”

Hyunjin opened his mouth, and Minho poured the blood. Hyunjin’s eyes seemed to roll into the back of his head as he drank, creating an incredibly sinful image that Minho was determined to ignore.

Eventually the blood was gone, and Hyunjin licked his lips for any excess. He looked at Minho hopefully. “More?”

Minho smiled. “There’s more.”

Hyunjin smiled back at him. The sight gave Minho hope and relief. His Hyunjin was still in there.

After feeding Hyunjin all of the blood, Hyunjin fell asleep. Minho took the time to clean up. The bed was completely stained, but luckily the carpet was protected, as most of the blood had fallen on the tarp. He left the tarps where they were, since Hyunjin would need another round of blood after another twenty-four hours.

Finally, three days after turning, Hyunjin woke up and stayed awake. He didn’t have a fever. He wasn’t delirious. His fangs had retracted, so now they only looked like slightly sharper incisors, like Minho’s did.

He was okay.

Minho was sitting in his favorite armchair, his head in his hands. He was so uncharacteristically exhausted that he didn’t even notice Hyunjin was awake until he felt a pair of hands on his wrists. He jumped and looked up to find Hyunjin crouched in front of the chair, dressed in one of their silk robes, his face clean of any blood. He looked up at Minho with warm eyes and a smile.

“Hyunjin?” Minho choked out, lifting a hand to Hyunjin’s face.

“Minho,” Hyunjin said.

Minho let out a sob and threw his arms around him. He buried his face in Hyunjin’s neck, murmuring, “You’re okay. Right? You’re okay?”

“I’ve never felt better,” Hyunjin said, hugging Minho back.

“You don’t…hate me?”

“Why would I hate you?” Hyunjin pulled back and cupped Minho’s face so he could see him.

Minho shook his head, avoiding Hyunjin’s gaze. “It’s nothing.”

“Minho.”

Minho looked up at that and sighed. “You…might have said some things while you were delirious. I know you were in pain, so you weren’t saying things you meant, but it…it still stung.”

Hyunjin’s face was full of horror. “I said those things to you?” he whispered. “I didn’t mean it. I could never hate you, Minho, I promise. I love you. I still love you, probably more than ever.”

“I know, I know…I just…” Minho couldn’t even get the words out, so he bowed his head again.

Hyunjin kissed him on the forehead and hugged him, letting Minho get it all out while he murmured how much he loved him.

When it was all over, when they had cleaned up the room and themselves and had taken all of the bloody items and burned them, they sat out in the garden. Minho handed Hyunjin a cup of tea, and Hyunjin smiled at him. They watched the sunset together, drinking tea, and holding hands.

This, Minho thought, was the beginning of eternity together.

For the first time, he wasn’t scared. Instead, looking at Hyunjin, and seeing Hyunjin smile back, he felt excited.

Things would be okay.

*

Eternity was bliss.

Well, things didn’t change all that much, except for the euphoric release of that tension that was between them, that tension surrounding Hyunjin turning. Now that Hyunjin had gotten what he wanted, there was nothing major for them to avoid talking about. Of course, they still had fights every now and then, but none of them were nearly as severe as the fights before.

If anything, they became even closer than before. They seemed to understand each other on a completely different level. Minho hardly had to speak for Hyunjin to know what he was thinking, and it was the same vice versa. That didn’t stop Hyunjin from speaking every single thing that crossed his mind, especially when it came to emotions, but Minho found himself understanding his train of thought much better than before.

They became closer on a physical level as well. They never stopped touching each other, not even in suggestive ways. They just always had to be touching when they were together as a sign to say, _I’m here. You’re here. We’re together._

Of course the sex got better too, but Minho figured that just came with time. It had nothing to do with turning Hyunjin. Though it was nice to finally bite each other during sex without worrying about potentially turning the other into a blood-sucking monster. Who knew Minho would be so into something like that.

In all honesty, he didn’t know why he had been so afraid of turning Hyunjin. It didn’t even _change_ much other than the fact that their expenses decreased drastically from them not having to buy food as often, if at all. Although, they did still buy perishable goods just to keep up the façade of them being human. But that expense was minor.

The one thing Hyunjin pushed for, though, was to stop acting ashamed about having to feed every month. Through his insistence, they turned it into a date night of sorts, where they dressed in their finest (or sexiest, in Hyunjin’s opinion) clothes and went hunting together. Then, they sat together in the darkness under the stars and drank their catches together, like it was just an ordinary dinner for them. Minho was initially worried about Hyunjin turning into that bloodthirsty monster like when he had first turned, but luckily that side of him never showed itself again. He never thought literally draining a rabbit of all its blood could be romantic, but for them, it was.

(it also usually led to some more promiscuous activities in the forest shortly after eating, because apparently Hyunjin found Minho irresistible when he had the slightest bit of blood dripping from his mouth.)

The only _annoying_ thing, about Hyunjin turning, if Minho _had_ to choose, was that Hyunjin could now paint for days on end. He could go days without sleeping, eating, or drinking, so of course he used it to his advantage. It wasn’t even _that_ annoying, because Minho knew how much Hyunjin loved what he did, though Minho did take it upon him to pull Hyunjin out of it when he had been working for too long. He found that a hug and a kiss and the promise of something _more_ was perfect for snapping Hyunjin out of his zones.

Really, life was amazing. They passed their days in inexplicable happiness. Soon, they stopped paying attention to time itself, and suddenly two years had passed. Minho picked up piano, after he saw a grand piano on sale and decided that the mansion needed it. He wasn’t extraordinary at it, but it was a hobby that he liked to pass the time with. He especially liked to play for Hyunjin, who would sit in one of the armchairs and listen with rapt attention and a soft smile on his face. At one point he tried to teach Hyunjin, figuring Hyunjin’s long fingers were perfect for playing. Hyunjin picked it up easily, and they began to search for duets to play together. Then Minho tried composing, and he found that he had a natural aptitude for it. He wrote almost every single song with Hyunjin in mind.

Another year passed. Things in the country were beginning to deteriorate. The country had still not recovered from the Great War, due to the heavy war reparations that had to be paid. Minho and Hyunjin lived in a fairly prosperous area that had been largely unaffected, but now the aftermath was beginning to show up here. Prices soared. Poverty spread. Things were beginning to look…worrisome.

People in town were even talking about the rumors of war, especially now that Adolf Hitler had risen to power and saved the country with his Nazi party. Young men began to join the party and proudly strode around town displaying their uniforms and armbands. What disturbed Minho the most about that was the fact that there were kids joining that party, too. Any military indoctrination like that didn’t bode well with him at all.

Not to mention, Minho really didn’t like to think about another war. His life was finally perfect; he didn’t want anything coming in and ruining it. Besides, appearing as the perfect youthful age for a soldier left little doubt that he would have to enlist. It made him sick, thinking about having to fight, or worse, thinking about Hyunjin having to fight as well. He knew neither of them would die, but the horrors of war would stay with them forever. _That’s_ what he was afraid of.

Fortunately, Hyunjin was always there to listen to Minho’s concerns and to comfort him. It helped substantially, and soon Minho found a way to live with the dangerous path the country was going down. As in, he tried his best to ignore it until he wouldn’t be able to anymore.

Eventually, though, after they had lived together and had been “married” for a couple years, the house began to feel empty than he thought it would. Maybe he had always associated marriage and a family as something more than just two people, so he brought up the option of adopting children to Hyunjin.

Hyunjin was skeptical.

“How is that going to work?” he asked. “We’re two eternally young men trying to adopt kids. That’s not going to go over well.”

“We could always adopt a kid from the street,” Minho said. “Not specifically from an orphanage. We might be able to get away with it then. The law wouldn’t really be looking at us. And, if anyone asks, we could say we’ve just been taking kids in and giving them a place to stay, food to eat, and work to do.”

“That sounds like child labor,” Hyunjin said.

“Do you not want kids?”

Hyunjin sighed, his expression conflicted. “I don’t know…I’m all about saving the kids from the orphanages—I mean, I was _one_ of them, so of course I want to help them—but I don’t know if I want to be around them all the time. I guess I never really thought about having kids.” He reached up and scratched the back of his head. “I guess I never thought I’d live long enough to have kids.”

Minho smiled and took Hyunjin’s hands in his. He brought them up to his lips, where he planted a kiss on his knuckles.

“Think about it,” Minho said softly. “It’s not something I want you to be pressured into doing.”

“Even if you really want them?” Hyunjin’s eyes were pained.

“It’s more of an impulse,” Minho said. “It’s not an easy decision. We have to think about it more, but together.”

Hyunjin nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you.” Minho kissed him on the forehead.

And they did think about it. As the days passed, Minho found himself wanting a child more and more, and Hyunjin found himself wanting one less and less.

“Maybe I’m just selfish,” Hyunjin said one night while they laid in bed together. “Maybe I don’t want to share you. That’s an awful thought, though. It’s not like you’ll love me less as soon as a kid’s involved.”

Minho just hummed, deciding to pick up Hyunjin’s hand and rub circles into the back of it as Hyunjin ranted.

“What would I even do with a kid?” Hyunjin asked. “I mean, you’re away all day—which is fine—but I’m here all day, usually working in my studio. How am I supposed to pay attention to a kid running around _and_ work? I just don’t know. But I guess you could always take the kid to work with you and have him work on the farm or something—but what if it’s a girl? Girls can’t work on the farm. Girls want to stay home and do, I don’t know, girl stuff.”

“That’s slightly misogynistic, but I understand where you’re coming from,” Minho said.

Hyunjin groaned. “I just…it would be a change. I would have to adapt. But I just…I don’t like it, Minho. Can’t we just get a dog or something?”

Minho tilted his head to one side. “A dog?”

“Or a cat,” Hyunjin said. “Though, I’m allergic to cats, so maybe not. I would like a dog, though. Dogs are easy. Oooh—or a horse? I’ll admit I’m a little scared of them but I could warm up to them! Don’t most people have horses anyways?”

Minho laughed. “You’re really overthinking this.”

“I am.” Hyunjin groaned again. “I just…I don’t want to keep you from fulfilling part of your dream. If your dream is to have kids, then…I won’t stand in the way of it. I’ll warm up to the kid. Eventually.”

Minho smiled, wondering how he got so lucky.

“I love you, you know that?” he said.

“I do, but it’s always nice to hear it often.” Hyunjin gave a smug smirk.

“I don’t want kids though if you don’t want them. You forget that part of my dream includes you, too. I want to have a family with _you_. You have to be all-in as well.” Minho shrugged. “Maybe you’ll warm up to the idea, but if you don’t, that’s okay with me. We can get a dog. Or two. Or three. We can have as many animals as we want. That will be our family.”

“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin whispered.

“Don’t be.” Minho smiled again and kissed him softly. “I already have a family just with you. That’s good enough for me.”

They ended up adopting a stray cat. It was a black cat—a kitten, malnourished and abused out of the town’s superstition of being bad luck. Minho found her hiding behind a dumpster and spent hours coaxing her out. When he carried her home to Hyunjin, Hyunjin melted at the sight. He took her from Minho’s hands and cradled her in his arms, already cooing and talking to her in a baby voice. Minho couldn’t help but laugh at the sight.

(it also turned out that vampirism heals all ailments, including allergies. So Hyunjin was not allergic after all)

They called her Lucy, short for Lucifer.

“I mean, if we’re going to be the gothic, homosexual vampires in the dark and foreboding house on the hill, then we might as well go all-in,” Hyunjin said with a shrug. He grinned as he started speaking in a baby voice and playing with Lucy’s paws as Lucy laid in his lap. “But Lucy isn’t a little devil at all, is she? Is she? I think she’s just a big _sweetie._ ”

“That kitten has you wrapped around her little paw,” Minho said.

“She has you, too.” Hyunjin shot him a smile.

Lucy might have bonded with Minho right away, but she took to Hyunjin while Minho was gone during the day. Hyunjin was nervous at first, determined to keep the door to his studio shut to keep her from coming in and wrecking havoc, but apparently when Lucy sat outside his door and yowled for what felt like hours, he gave in. He told Minho that she came in and explored every nook and cranny of the studio, but eventually decided that Hyunjin’s lap was the best spot.

“It’s a bit difficult to maneuver sometimes with a purring kitty in your lap,” Hyunjin said one night as they sat out in the garden, drinking tea and watching the fireflies flit through the plants. Lucy was currently in Minho’s lap, purring away. “But honestly, I’m not complaining.”

“She’s made herself right at home,” Minho said, smiling as he stroked Lucy’s head with one finger.

“I adore her.”

Luckily, Lucy started to gain weight quickly, as well as fluff. Soon she was a little ball of darkness, and apparently came out of her shell. She was very playful. _Very_ playful.

“Tell Minho what you did, you little demon,” Hyunjin scoffed one day, holding up a very annoyed Lucy by the scruff of her neck.

“Aw, no, she’s not a little demon.” Minho quickly took her from him. Lucy immediately curled up in his arms and started purring.

“She’s giving me a smug look! Do you see that?” Hyunjin pointed at the cat. “She decided my studio was a play area and knocked over not one but _two_ cans of primer—all over one of my finished landscapes. _And then_ she chewed one of my brushes to pieces! The little _devil!_ ”

“What, this sweet thing?” Minho kissed Lucy on the top of her head. She only purred louder. “I don’t believe you. Must have been another cat.”

“Ugh, why do I even bother.” Hyunjin threw his hands into the air and walked away.

Minho giggled at his little temper tantrum (which wasn’t serious in the slightest) and nuzzled Lucy’s head.

She was a good cat, even if she wrecked havoc occasionally. And even if she quite literally cock-blocked them at one point by leaping onto the bed and settling on Minho’s chest while Hyunjin was literally straddling him and preparing to sink down on him.

“Awww, someone’s jealous of the attention,” Minho said, stroking Lucy’s back.

“Seriously?” Hyunjin said with a huff. “Way to ruin the moment.”

“We can cuddle with a kitty instead.”

“I was literally about to ride you, but fine.”

“You can still ride me.”

“While you’re cuddling a cat? No way.” Hyunjin flopped onto the bed next to him with another huff. Despite his mood, he reached out and petted Lucy anyways. “Attention hog.”

Lucy responded by batting his hand away.

Minho loved both his husband and his cat, though, and finally felt like their family was somewhat more complete. It didn’t stop him from looking at children wistfully whenever they went to town, though. And it especially didn’t stop him from gasping whenever he saw a baby and exclaiming, “A baby! Look how cute!” He always had to stop and coo at the baby a little bit, much to Hyunjin’s annoyance.

A couple times he stopped to play some games with the village boys, whether they were kicking a ball around or playing tag or playing another game they made up. The village boys loved him and always swarmed around him when he came to town, asking if he would play with them.

Minho loved playing with them. It lifted his spirits for at least a couple of days just by saying hi to one on his way to work or stopping to surprise some others with some treats or a new ball. He just felt…whole when he was helping others. He felt invigorated.

He mentioned it to Hyunjin one night as they sat at the piano, trying out a new tune. Lucy was curled into a ball on the top of the piano. She had long stopped trying to bat at Hyunjin’s fingers every time he tried to play.

“I want to work with kids,” Minho said.

“Oh?” Hyunjin squinted at the sheet music. “Like as a career?”

“Yeah. I could be a teacher. I could teach piano. Or I could, I don’t know, work with orphans?”

Hyunjin hit the wrong note and grimaced. “I think you should.”

“Really?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at those kids. I see the smile on your face when you play with them. I don’t think I’ve seen you that alive in so long.” But for some reason, Hyunjin seemed sad.

Minho frowned. “But?”

“No ‘but’,” Hyunjin said. “I guess just…the last time I saw you that happy was on our wedding day. Makes me wonder if…never mind.” He shook his head.

“No, go on. Makes you wonder what?”

Hyunjin sighed. “If I don’t make you that happy anymore. It’s selfish, I know, and I’m making this about me and I don’t mean to, but—”

“Hyunjin.” Minho stopped playing to turn towards Hyunjin. He picked Hyunjin’s hands up off the keyboard, forcing Hyunjin to look back at him. “I’m still just as happy with you as I was back on our wedding day. Nothing has changed. And me working with kids won’t change that either. I love you, through and through, forever and ever.”

“I know, I guess it just goes back to the having kids thing.” Hyunjin grimaced again. “I feel like I’d be sharing you and…it just makes me jealous. And selfish. I’m sorry I’m so selfish…” His voice broke on the last word, and he lowered his head.

“I don’t think you’re selfish,” Minho said, reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind Hyunjin’s ear.

“I really think you should do what makes you happy, though,” Hyunjin said, looking up. “Really. If it deals with kids, then you should do it. You deserve to feel passionate about something like that.”

“Just like you with painting,” Minho said.

Hyunjin smiled. “Just like me with painting, yes.”

Minho smiled back before kissing Hyunjin on the forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too. And I’m happy for you, Minho. Really.”

“I know you are.”

Minho ended up doing two things, to start. First, he started as a private piano instructor, who would visit some of the richer kids’ houses to teach them to play. Those kids were slightly snooty, and they acted like they knew more than him, but Minho figured he had been one of them before, so he didn’t take any shit from them. Their parents were a bit more of a handful, but he could deal with them, too. Besides, he had dealt with his parents for so long. Other kids’ parents were _nothing_.

Second, he started volunteering at the local orphanage, about an hour’s drive away. Since it was so far, he could really only go on weekends. He liked to bring ingredients to prepare meals for everyone, as well as presents such as new clothes and toys and books. He taught a few how to read. He taught others how to play different games. He liked these children much better than the rich kids, just because they knew how to have fun. They also liked to joke around, much to Minho’s amusement. He played along, usually.

Hyunjin was always waiting for him at home when he came home from the orphanage, and he would always ask Minho about his latest stories, and he would listen to every single word as Minho told him.

At one point, Minho asked Hyunjin to come with him to the orphanage.

“To the orphanage?” Hyunjin scoffed, then snorted. “No. No way. I vowed when I left that place that I would never go back. I’m upholding that vow.”

“But the kids are so nice,” Minho said. “Think of how much hope you would give them, seeing that you were once an orphan and now are a successful artist, selling off your paintings to wealthy people for thousands a piece. They’ll love you.”

“No, they’ll resent me,” Hyunjin said. “They’ll think I’m not one of them anymore. Which I’m not. And besides, I only got here because of a particularly wealthy, _gay_ vampire.” He poked Minho in the stomach to enunciate his point.

Minho snorted but gave Hyunjin a look. “Please? Just one visit. Then if you hate it, you don’t have to go back.”

Hyunjin grumbled at that but eventually gave in. He scowled the entire drive there, or at least until Minho bumped his shoulder with his and said, “Lighten up. Where’s that beautiful smile?”

Hyunjin responded by sticking his tongue out at him, and Minho laugh. Even though Hyunjin looked away, Minho could see the way he was trying not to smile.

The kids were wary of Hyunjin at first, as was Hyunjin of them. Minho introduced everyone to him with a big smile (though he called him “my dear friend” and not “my immortal husband”) and even mentioned that Hyunjin used to be an orphan, just like them. But now he was successful and rich and had expensive clothes and a big house and—

“Can you shoot marbles?” one kid interrupted, his arms crossed, a particularly stern look on his face.

Hyunjin arched an eyebrow at him, unfazed. “You bet I can.”

“Prove it.”

“Fine.”

And Hyunjin did prove that he could shoot marbles. He wasn’t the best, but he wasn’t bad, either. He successfully won the respect of the orphaned kids.

Minho watched Hyunjin get along with some of the rougher kids with a proud and fond smile on his face. At one point, Hyunjin felt him staring and looked up to meet his eye. Minho’s smile only widened, and after a moment, Hyunjin smiled too.

Of course, later Minho found out that Hyunjin was teaching some of the kids how to pick locks and pickpocket, and he put a stop to that right away.

“Hey, sometimes it’s about survival!” Hyunjin protested on the drive home.

“It’s gonna get them in trouble when they try to pick the locks to the kitchens or pickpocket one of the nuns,” Minho shot back.

Hyunjin stuck his tongue out at him but didn’t teach the kids how to be good little thieves. Or, at least, not to Minho’s knowledge.

When they got home, Hyunjin let out a sigh as he stretched his arms and admitted, “That…wasn’t… _awful_.”

Minho grinned at him, and Hyunjin glanced at him before looking away, though he was once again trying to suppress a smile.

He ended up going back with Minho to the orphanage the following weekend, and the weekend after that, and the weekend after that. It became their “thing,” and Minho loved every moment of it.

Then, one day, one of the oldest kids had yet to be adopted and was about to be kicked out. His name was Klaus. He was thirteen. He was a bit of a troublemaker and tended to get into fights, but Minho knew he was just misunderstood.

Regardless, Minho was determined to adopt him.

Of course, he brought it up to Hyunjin one day at lunch, when they were both quietly sitting in the dining room. Minho was reading the newspaper. Hyunjin was reading some dime novel and stroking Lucy, who was curled in his lap. Minho glanced at him a few times out of the corner of his eye before taking a deep breath and folding the newspaper. Then he turned to Hyunjin.

“I want to adopt Klaus,” Minho said.

“I know,” Hyunjin said without looking up from his novel.

“You…you do?”

“I can tell from the way you look at him. Not to mention how he’s going to be kicked out soon, which means he’ll have nowhere to go but the streets or the military. Neither will be very nice to him. He’d probably turn to crime on the streets. The military might be good for him, but since he doesn’t get along with others very well, I have a feeling that won’t go smoothly. He’ll get his ass handed to him if they don’t kick him out.” Hyunjin finally looked up from his book. “You want to have him live here and do…what, work with you on the farms?”

“He would go to school, first,” Minho said. “Get an education. Then maybe get a job. Maybe we don’t actually adopt him, but we at least take him in. Give him another home so he can get onto his feet. Then, when he wants to leave, he can leave.”

“And you trust him?” Hyunjin looked skeptical.

“Yes,” Minho said. “We can lock up anything valuable, and of course we won’t let him go into your studio, but other than that…I think he’ll be happy. I think he’ll fit into our family very well.”

“And what about the homosexual and vampire part?”

“We’ll…bring it up to him. When he’s ready.”

Hyunjin studied him for a few moments, and Minho tried not to hold his breath, but he found himself doing it anyways.

Finally, Hyunjin shook his head and looked at his novel again. “Alright.”

Minho let out that breath. “Really?”

Hyunjin smiled at him. “Really.”

Minho let out a little squeal and threw his arms around Hyunjin, startling both Hyunjin and the cat, who gave an annoyed yowl before jumping up and running off to find a more peaceful napping place. Minho didn’t care. All he cared about was the fact that they were finally going to start a family—a _real_ family. He was over the moon.

He wished he had known at the time that it wouldn’t last.

*

A few days before Klaus was set to move in, Minho got up early. Hyunjin groaned and murmured something unintelligible when Minho slipped out of bed. He tried reaching for him, probably to pull him back and fill him with warmth again, but when his hand passed through empty, cold air, he finally woke up.

“What are you doing?” he asked Minho, blinking up at him groggily. “’S too early. Come back to bed.” He patted the empty bed next to him for emphasis.

Minho was already getting dressed, but he paused and turned back to Hyunjin. He smiled and smoothed Hyunjin’s hair back from his face. “I just have to go to the next town for an early lesson. I’ll be back tonight. And I might have a surprise for you.” He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows.

Hyunjin perked up at that. “A surprise?”

“Yep.” Minho pressed a kiss to Hyunjin’s forehead. “Bye. See you tonight. I love you.”

“Love you too.” Hyunjin smiled, then flopped back onto the bed when Minho withdrew.

Minho could barely keep the spring out of his step as he walked downstairs to the car. He wasn’t lying, really—he _did_ have a lesson or two in the next town over, but they wouldn’t take all day. No, Minho fully planned to drive to _another_ town to finish the process of buying a rare painting of Jacob van Ruisdael, one that he knew was one of Hyunjin’s favorites. Hyunjin had showed him prints in old art textbooks and had gone on rants for hours about the composition and genius of each one. Minho loved watching the way his entire being came to life just talking about art. So when he heard of the opportunity to bring one of those masterpieces home, well, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

The lessons were uneventful. The drive was somewhat boring. The business transaction went along perfectly. Soon, Minho had a painting packed safely in a wooden box in the back of his car, and he started the long drive back.

He couldn’t wait to see the look on Hyunjin’s face when he showed him the painting. Would Hyunjin cry? He would probably cry. He would probably fall to his knees before throwing himself at Minho. He’d probably kiss Minho all over, then pull away to admire every single brushstroke of the painting. He’d probably stare at it for days on end. But he would be happy. Hyunjin, his husband, would be so, so happy.

Minho was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice the smoke until the blaze was right in front of him.

He slammed on the brakes, his eyes widening in horror at the sight before him.

The house. It was on fire.

No. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. There couldn’t be flames curling out of the windows.

Minho slammed to a stop, wishing everything else would slam to a stop for him as well, would pause and wait until he got his bearings. But time waited for no one, and so it continued on and left him behind. All Minho could do was stare at the hypnotizing movements of the red, orange, and yellow flames in front of him, crawling all over his beloved home, consuming every last bit of it, ensuring nothing survived. _Nothing._

Minho snapped out of it when he heard a high-pitched wail, almost like a siren. But when he looked around, he realized that there was no fire engine driving towards the blaze. There was no one. It was just him.

That sound had come out of him.

He launched himself out of the car and sprinted up the gravel road to the house. The blaze was so big and angry that he couldn’t even get within twenty feet of it. The heat was too strong. And fire was one of the few things that was lethal to vampires.

Minho could do nothing but stand and watch as his entire life went up in flames.

Hyunjin was in there.

_Hyunjin._

Minho screamed his name, but the sound was swallowed by the roar of the inferno. He screamed it again and again, until the inside of his throat felt like it was being sliced open, and he fell to his knees. A sob tore out of him, consuming him like the flames. He hugged his torso as he screamed at the blaze with all his energy, then fell forwards, choking on a sob.

It was gone. It was all gone.

Hyunjin was gone.

_Hyunjin—_

Had Minho even kissed him goodbye this morning? He hadn’t kissed him on the lips. And now he would never kiss him again, because the love of his life, the love he should have spent eternity with, was gone forever.

Minho let out another sob as he lowered his head, still kneeling on the gravel.

At one point, he felt something soft brush his hand. His head jerked up as he said, “Hyunjin?”

But it wasn’t Hyunjin. It was Lucy, covered in ash and trembling. She mewed at Minho and brushed against his hand again, seeking comfort.

Minho gently picked her up and cradled her in his arms. He buried his face into her fur, trying to suppress his sobs.

Lucy mewed again, and again, and _again_ , until Minho knew what she was carrying on about.

“I know, I know,” he said. “I know. But he’s gone. He’s gone.”

_He’s gone._


	4. Chapter 4

Minho sits in silence, staring down at his half-empty mug. There’s this unreadable expression on his face, one that breaks Jeongin’s heart.

Jeongin looks at Felix, who started silently crying a few minutes ago. Felix looks back at him, his eyes wide and horrified.

Minho misinterprets their silence and adds quietly, “I looked for a body. I wasn’t sure if there would even be anything left, since the blaze was so hot and since vampires apparently combust when set on fire, but I had never seen a vampire burn, so I looked anyways, just to be sure.”

He pauses, swallowing thickly before whispering, “I found one. It wasn’t much more than a charred skeleton, but I found one. Everything else in the house was lost completely.”

“No,” Felix whispers, covering his mouth with his hands.

Minho grimaces. “I buried him on a hill overlooking what used to be the house. Then I thought about joining the war after that. About fighting. There wasn’t much else to do. I meant to do it, but…I lost track of time. I ended up leaving town and going to this one ancient, abandoned castle I had seen a couple times when driving around with Hyunjin. I thought it would be good if I just sat and sorted through my emotions before I did anything rash, but I ended up taking too long to just…dissociate? Anyways. When I finally snapped out of it, the war was over. Five years had passed. I didn’t know what to do.”

He sighs and reaches up to rub at his eyes. “I realized after that that Hyunjin was all I had. I didn’t _really_ have any friends. After he…after the fire, I was alone. Again.”

“But…the townsfolk…Mr. Kim…” Jeongin starts to say.

“Lucy…the kids at the orphanage,” Felix adds in a small voice.

“A lot of the villagers and the kids went off to fight,” Minho says. “A lot of them didn’t come back. Mr. Kim didn’t come back. Lucy stayed with me for a few months or so at the castle. I think she even brought me some dead mice to get me to eat. But when she realized that I wasn’t going to move any time soon, she left. I never saw her again.”

Felix looks down at Soonie, who’s purring in his lap. He scoops her up into his arms and hugs her as tightly as she’ll allow.

Minho gives a small smile before saying, “I couldn’t stay in that town anymore. It had too many memories. So I left. I left and came to America with all the other immigrants. Started from the bottom. Took awful jobs. I ended up on a farm in Minnesota, if you can believe it. The winters are _horrible_ there. But…it was better than nothing. And I was good with the animals, so…After awhile I realized that people notice when you don’t age, so I had to keep moving after about ten or so years. I went to a factory next, in the city, where I didn’t have to be out in the sunlight so much. Eventually I made enough money to buy my own place, but I couldn’t decide where to go. I went to the West Coast, just because I hadn’t been there yet. I continued to kind of just do random jobs here and there. Sometimes when work was too much, I’d disappear and take years off. But usually I liked working. It distracted me from…everything.”

He sighs once again, takes a sip of his tea, which has gone cold. “At one point I wanted to try something new. Wanted to try and create something. Hyunjin was always so creative. And he managed to turn his life around, so I thought I could, too. I ended up going to school just to get a basic education. To catch up on some things I’d zoned out on while trying to run from my past. It was okay. But the best part was the dancing. I joined a dance club on campus on a whim. I literally hadn’t danced in _decades_. Too many bad memories. But I felt alive for the first time in all those decades when I danced with everyone else.” He snorts. “Kinda ironic, huh? A vampire, wanting to feel alive? Anyways, it turns out that I have a talent for picking up choreographies instantly. And now I’m working as a choreographer for lots of dance studios and theatre companies.” He smiles. “It’s not as lonely as it used to be.”

Jeongin and Felix exchange glances again.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Minho,” Felix says softly.

“It happened eighty years ago.” Minho rubs his eyes again. “I’ve had more than enough time to heal.”

“I’m sorry if we brought up old wounds,” Felix says.

He’s so good with words. Jeongin stares at him in open-mouthed amazement. Felix catches him staring, smiles, then looks back at Minho.

“You didn’t.” Minho gives a stiff smile, though his eyes are still pained. He quickly clears his throat. “Anyways. Got enough content? I think that might be a little…too shocking for an exhibit. It doesn’t give you much good historical content, anyways. It’s just a stupid romance.” He shakes his head and stands.

“Thank you for telling us, Minho.” Jeongin picks up his phone and stops the recording. The recording itself is three and a half hours long. “Even if we don’t end up using any of your story, I’m glad you told us. I think that’s one of my favorite stories.” He smiles.

Minho smiles back. “Even though it doesn’t have a happy ending?”

“It’s true and honest, that’s all that matters,” Jeongin says.

Minho snorts as he stares down at the mugs in his hands. “Let me know when the exhibit opens up, yeah? I think it’d…it’d be nice seeing more vampire history. As long as you don’t showcase the evil ones, that is.”

“From what I’ve noticed, it’s not the vampires who are the evil ones,” Jeongin says. “But I’ll let you know when we decide on a date.”

“Thanks, Jeongin. And of course, you two are welcome here anytime. It’s nice, having some company every once in awhile.”

“You should come play video games with us,” Felix says. “Or come get dinner with us or _something_.”

“Yeah, it’d be fun,” Jeongin agrees. “We could even get Chan, Changbin, and Jisung to come, if you’re okay with Jisung talking your ear off about vampire conspiracy theories.”

Minho snorts, but he’s smiling. “That would be nice,” he says. “That would…that would be really, really nice. I’d like that a lot.”

Jeongin and Felix smile back.

They help Minho clean up and make arrangements to get coffee in a few days, then call it a night. They thank Minho profusely one more time before leaving. As they walk back to Jeongin’s apartment, their hands naturally drift towards each other until Felix takes Jeongin’s hand in his. Jeongin smiles at him, and Felix smiles back.

“He seems so sad and lonely,” Felix says when they get back to Jeongin’s apartment. “And his story…it’s so sad. He lost the love of his life, someone he was supposed to spend eternity with…” he shakes his head as he sits down on the edge of Jeongin’s bed.

“Yeah, at least I didn’t tell him about the vampire experiments that the Nazis did,” Jeongin says. “I think that would have been too much.”

“Yeah.” Felix sighs. “Maybe he’ll find someone else.”

“Maybe. But for now, let’s just be friends with him. I think he needs it.”

“Me too.”

Jeongin smiles as he crawls onto the bed and hugs Felix. Felix leans into him.

“I’m sorry about ditching you at dinner,” Jeongin says. “I just saw him and had to stop him before he left for good.”

“I was really shocked and annoyed at the time, but I agree that it was for a good reason.” Felix kisses Jeongin’s forehead. “Besides, hearing that story from a real vampire was _way_ better than coming back here and playing video games all night.”

Jeongin snorts at that. They change out of their clothes and into something more comfortable to sleep in, then crawl under the sheets and hold each other close.

Before Jeongin drifts off, though, he can’t help wondering if Minho used to hold Hyunjin like this.

*

After Jeongin and Felix leave, Minho goes into his bedroom. He clutches the locket from Jeongin tightly in his hand, still in shock about its reappearance. He doesn’t understand how it survived. Hyunjin wore it every single day and rarely took it off. Minho used to have to coax him to take it off when they went to bed, just so he didn’t get tangled up in it or break the chain on accident (Usually he’d be concerned about choking from it, but that wasn’t an issue, really). And even if Hyunjin wasn’t wearing it the night of the fire, it was still in the mansion. Everything in the mansion burned. The locket couldn’t have survived.

Unless…

Minho shakes his head as he goes over to his dresser and opens up the top drawer. Tucked in the very back corner, wrapped in a soft fabric, is his own locket. He takes it out and stares down at it. It’s identical to Hyunjin’s, except, of course, for the image inside.

Minho hasn’t been able to look at the photograph in decades. He wanted to get rid of it, once, thinking he’d be better off destroying all reminders of his past, but he couldn’t do it. He resorted to shoving it in the farthest places and never looking at it.

That is, until now.

He gently opens the locket and stares down at the face that gazes back up at him. Even in the tiny, grainy photograph, Hyunjin’s beauty is unmistakable. It stirs up old emotions in Minho’s chest, just like his story had done.

He closes the locket, wraps it back up in its fabric, and puts it back into its place. Then he finds another spare scrap of fabric to wrap up Hyunjin’s locket. Once he closes the dresser, he tries not to think about them anymore.

But even as he tries to sleep, the memories and thoughts plague him. Mostly, it’s just one thought, turning over and over in his mind.

If Hyunjin never took off the locket, and if the locket survived the fire…then is there a chance that Hyunjin survived it too?

Minho shakes his head again to clear the thought. That thought is worse than thinking Hyunjin is dead. Because if Hyunjin did survive, then that meant that he could have found Minho at any time, but he didn’t. Instead, he disappeared for eighty years.

He left Minho.

It’s easier just to think Hyunjin is dead than to face the other possible truth.

But it isn’t possible. Because Minho found a body. Hyunjin is dead. _He’s dead_.

Minho ends up getting out of bed and going to watch TV until his thoughts calm down enough for him to sleep.

*

No one notices that the locket is missing. Jeongin doesn’t dare remind anyone. Besides, they have other things to worry about.

Like—

“We’re getting a _coffin_?” Jisung gapes at Chan in amazement. “A real coffin?”

“Yeah, it’s from some private collection?” Chan scratches the back of his neck. “It’s part of the Nazi vampire experiments. Apparently someone was obsessed with the artistry and craftsmanship of the thing when they raided the Nazi lab, so they took the coffin with them.”

“Creepy,” Changbin says.

“Right? Anyways, some guy noticed it in some rich person’s personal museum and thought it might have something to do with the vampire experiments. So they bought it from the rich dude and compared it to some of the images taken before they raided the lab. And it turns out that it really is from the vampire experiments. If you look closely in one of the images we have, it’s in the background.”

“Cool,” Jisung says, grinning.

“Still creepy,” Changbin says, frowning.

“Can we crack it open when it gets here? I think it would be _epic_ if we had some remains to display in the exhibit.”

“What?” Chan looks appalled. “Oh my god, Sung, we’re not going to just ‘crack it open’ and display whatever’s in there! It could be a body that’s been missing for years. We could be giving a family closure for giving them back their long lost relative’s remains or something.”

“That is, _if_ there’s anything in there,” Changbin says.

“Knowing the Nazis, there’s definitely someone—or some _thing_ —in there,” Jisung says. “But it’s for science! And for the record! We could be missing a huge breakthrough if we don’t open it!”

Chan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ll bring it up to the director,” he says. “We’ll have to run more tests first _and_ maybe do a scan of it before we ‘crack it open.’ We’re going to follow every single rule in the book on this one.”

“Where is there a rule about cracking open old coffins that _might_ have supposed vampire remains in them?”

“Jisung.”

“Fine, fine, we’ll go by the book.” Jisung scowls. “The book sucks the fun out of everything.”

The shipment—a massive crate filled with cushions and packing peanuts—arrives a few days later. It takes another week for Chan to get their request cleared by the director, and another two weeks after _that_ for them to run tests and do a full scan of the coffin. The results are…disturbing.

“That’s definitely humanoid,” Changbin says, looking at the imaging from the scan. “Maybe not _human_ necessarily, if we’re running with the theory that vampires are real—”

“They’re real,” Jeongin says.

“Well, that was full of conviction,”Changbin says.

“Dude, you’ve _literally_ met Minho,” Jisung says. “What more proof do you want?”

Changbin waves the thought aside and doesn’t comment.

Jeongin and Felix introduced Minho to Chan, Changbin, and Jisung a few weeks ago and didn’t bother telling the three of them about Minho’s true nature. They wanted to see if the three of them—being so-called vampire enthusiasts and experts—could figure it out.

It turned out that they couldn’t. They were completely oblivious. It was Seungmin, Changbin’s boyfriend, who figured out from _one_ lunch with Minho that something was _off_ about him. After an initial period of shock, the three of them overcame it and immediately began bombarding Minho with questions that they knew would help with their research. The seven of them have been hanging out and going out for dinner and drinks (still boba tea) ever since then.

“It’s totally a vampire,” Jisung continues. “And if it’s been stuck in there for eighty years, then you _know_ it’s going to be hungry. We have to be prepared for it to come out bloodthirsty. It’ll probably rip poor Jeongin’s throat out before we can stop it.”

“Go for Changbin—he’s juicier,” Jeongin mumbles.

“Hey,” Changbin protests.

“It’s not going to be a bloodthirsty vampire,” Chan says. “But…just in case…we should probably get some blood.”

“Where the hell do you get _blood_?” Changbin asks.

Jeongin smirks. “I know someone.”

“That doesn’t sound suspicious at all.”

“Dude, again, we all know he’s talking about our resident vampire,” Jisung says with a snort.

“Yeah, I can ask Minho,” Jeongin says. “He’ll know where to get some.”

Minho—for good reason—is skeptical when Jeongin asks him out of the blue for some animal blood, but Jeongin explains that they might have found possible vampire remains that _might_ not be completely dead, so they need to take precautions. Minho is more disturbed than anything at that point, but agrees to send Jeongin some bags of animal blood.

“Where the hell does he get this?” Jisung asks the day they’re going to “crack open” the coffin. He pokes at the bags—literal _bags_ —of animal blood that Jeongin brought in. “This is gross.”

“Probably from butchers,” Changbin says. “I wonder what type of animal blood it is. Pig? Cow?” He pauses for a moment before adding, “Horse?”

Jisung gags into his hand while Jeongin stares at Changbin with horrified eyes.

“Why did you have to _say that_?” Jeongin complains. “Poor animals!”

“He could’ve just raided some hospital or something,” Jisung says.

“He doesn’t like human blood,” Jeongin says. “But the poor little piggies and cows—”

“Okay!” Chan claps his hands together to bring their attention back. “This is going to be…interesting! So, Jeongin has the…blood and Changbin and Jisung have the weapons, right?”

Changbin and Jisung both lift up their weapons of choice. Changbin has a wooden stake, Jisung has a silver knife. Jeongin just has a silver crucifix hanging around his neck. They also have garlic and a bottle of holy water sitting on the table, just in case.

Chan doesn’t have anything, but he did duct-tape his forearms. Again, just in case. After giving the other three a thumbs up, he turns to the coffin, which they have set on a table, on a massive tarp in the middle of the room. They don’t want to use power tools to break the sealant that has kept the coffin sealed up for decades, so instead Chan has resorted to a little pick that he’ll use to scrape off the sealant. After he’s done that, Changbin will help him lift the lid to see what’s inside.

It’s slow-going, so eventually Changbin drops his weapon of choice, picks up a spare pick, and starts helping Chan with the coffin. That helps speed up the process remarkably, and soon, the sealant is completely gone. Chan wiggles the lid just to make sure, then looks at Changbin. When Changbin nods, Chan says, “On three. One, two…three!”

They lift at the same time and set the lid off to the side. While they do, Jeongin and Jisung watch the coffin, holding their breath the entire time.

Chan and Changbin go back over to the coffin after setting down the lid. Chan lets out a breath when he sees what’s in it.

“What?” Jisung asks. “What is it? Is it bones? Money? Gold?”

“Holy shit,” Changbin says, staring.

Jisung apparently is too impatient to wait for them to overcome their shock, so he walks over to the coffin and looks inside. His eyes go wide as he says, “What the fuck.”

And of course that gets Jeongin to overcome his fear and approach the coffin as well, though he hides partially behind Chan.

The coffin isn’t empty. But it isn’t full of any kind of remains, either.

There’s a young man lying in the coffin. He appears unconscious. He also doesn’t look a day over twenty, with every single part of him completely intact.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Chan whispers. “He should be rotting or something. Not…” he gestures, then sighs.

“Vampire,” Jisung and Changbin say at the same time.

“Is he alive?” Jeongin asks.

“Most likely,” Changbin says.

“Do vampires even decompose after they die?” Jisung asks.

“They have to. He’s probably just sleeping.”

They all study the sleeping vampire for a few moments more.

Then Changbin sighs and says, “Alright. Who’s gonna poke him.”

“Not it!” Jisung says.

“I don’t want to poke him!” Changbin shoves him. “You do it.”

“I don’t think we should poke him,” Jeongin says.

“I’ll do it,” Chan says. “Everybody stand back. Jeongin, go stand by the blood. Bin, Sung, go get your…protective equipment.”

“Just call them vampire repellant weapons,” Jisung says, but he and Changbin follow Chan’s orders.

Once they’re all in their places, Chan takes a deep breath, reaches out, and gently shakes the vampire’s shoulder. Then he jerks back, almost instinctively.

Nothing happens.

“Do it again,” Jisung whisper-yells.

Chan groans but shakes the vampire one more time. And then jerks back.

This time, the vampire stirs, and everyone in the room tenses.

“I think he’s waking up,” Chan says. “Everybody get—”

The vampire opens his eyes, then immediately recoils at the bright light coming in. A low groan rumbles out of his throat.

Jeongin quickly runs over to the windows and closes all the blinds. Then he turns off the lights, so only the security light is on. That seems to help, because the vampire stops groaning.

Slowly, Chan approaches the coffin again.

“Hey,” he says softly, gently. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

The vampire’s eyelids flutter open. His eyes are unfocused for several moments before they finally sharpen and come to rest on Chan. Then they widen in horror.

“Who are you?” the vampire asks, his voice raspy from lack of use. The sound sends an involuntary shiver down everyone’s spine.

“My name’s Chan,” Chan says.

“Are you a Nazi?”

“No, no.” Chan shakes his head. “I’m a student. And you’re not in Germany anymore. The Nazis are all gone. You’re safe, in America.”

“America,” the vampire repeats, that dazed look back in his eye.

“Can you sit up?” Chan asks.

The vampire nods, after a moment. Chan reaches out and helps him sit up without thinking. Once the vampire is sitting up, though, he recoils from Chan’s touch.

“You need to go,” the vampire says. “I—I’m really hungry and I don’t want to—” He winces and wraps his arms around his own stomach.

“Jeongin,” Chan says.

Jeongin nods and brings over the bag of blood. At the sight of it, the vampire’s eyes glint with a hungry light. Before any of them can react, the vampire jumps out of the coffin and lunges at Jeongin, who screams and drops the bags. Changbin and Jisung immediately tense, their weapons lifted, but Chan quickly holds out a hand to stop them.

The vampire isn’t hurting Jeongin. He’s too busy tearing into the bag of blood and gulping it down. It’s messy, and blood goes everywhere, but at least he’s not hurting anyone.

“Thank god we put down the tarp,” Changbin says.

“My idea,” Jisung says.

Changbin rolls his eyes.

Once the vampire finishes draining the entire bag, he sits back and focuses more on licking the excess blood from his fingertips. He glances up at Jeongin, and when their eyes lock for a brief moment, the vampire pauses. Then he looks down at his hands again, and the blood soaking the front of his gray, threadbare shirt, and then at the mess all around where he’s kneeling on the tarp. His eyes go wide with horror.

“I—” he gulps as his hands begin to shake. “I’m—I’m so sorry, I got it everywhere...”

“It’s okay,” Jeongin reassures him quickly. “That’s why there’s a tarp! Easy to clean up.” He smiles, hoping it will reassure the vampire.

It doesn’t. Instead, the vampire’s eyes fill with tears as he stares down at his bloody hands. “I...I look like a monster...”

“Oh no,” Jeongin says in a small voice. He looks at Chan for help.

“You don’t look like a monster,” he tells the vampire, walking forward. “None of us think you look like a monster, right guys?”

“Right!” Jisung says.

“You just look hungry,” Changbin says.

“Yeah, and of course you’re hungry after spending eighty years in that thing!” Chan adds with a reassuring smile.

The vampire goes rigid. “Eighty years?” he repeats in a small voice. “It’s been...eighty years?”

“Oh boy,” Changbin says in a small voice.

“How...how long did you think it was?” Chan asks the vampire.

The vampire just shakes his head, his eyes wide with horror and grief, something Jeongin thinks looks very similar to the look Minho got in his eye when he talked about losing Hyunjin. Jeongin wonders who this vampire left behind eighty years ago.

Chan and Changbin exchange glances, clearly trying to figure out what to do. Then Chan steps forward and tells the vampire, “Hey. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? Come on, we’ll get you something to drink too and let you take your time to process this.”

The vampire just nods.

Fifteen minutes later, said vampire is sitting on a stool off to the side of the lab, with a little blanket draped over his shoulders and a mug of warm tea in his hands. He still has some blood on him, but Chan took him to the bathrooms to wash some of it off while Changbin and Jisung cleaned up the lab. He’s staring at the floor, a distant, lost look in his eye.

“What should we do?” Chan whispers to Changbin. “Should we tell the museum? I mean, technically he’s not…he’s not _human_ but we can’t report him as a discovery or an artifact. God, I don’t know what to do.” He rakes his hands through his curly hair.

“I think we just need to give him some space?” Changbin whispers back. “I don’t know, man.”

As they whisper back and forth, Jeongin walks up to the vampire. He pulls up a stool and sits down in front of him.

“Hi,” Jeongin says, smiling.

The vampire snaps out of it long enough to glance up at Jeongin. He immediately looks away. “Hi,” he says.

“How are you doing?”

“I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “At least I’m not hungry anymore. Thanks for the…blood.”

“No problem.” Jeongin smiles. “We’re actually doing a project on vampires. We got that coffin that you had been stuck in and thought that there might be a real vampire in it and that it might be hungry, so we took precautions.”

“I noticed the crucifixes.”

Jeongin is glad he has taken his off, but he stares down at his hands now. “Yeah, it was just in case. Most stories don’t really paint vampires in a very good light, so…”

“I understand.” The vampire sighs. “I was the same way before I turned.”

“How long have you been a vampire?”

“I had only been a vampire for a few years before they got me.”

“The Nazis?”

The vampire nods, his face now taking on a haunted look. “They did such horrible things…I was one of the lucky ones.”

“We have some photographs and files from those experiments. We don’t even know the full story—and definitely not firsthand experience—so I can only imagine how traumatizing that must have been.”

“But they’re gone now, right?” The vampire looks up at Jeongin. “They lost the war?”

“Yes.” Jeongin smiles and nods. “They’re long gone. And there’s a worldwide hatred for them, don’t worry. They won’t ever hurt you again.”

The vampire nods again and looks away.

“Did you have any family?”

“Just one other vampire. He’s probably still alive, but I don’t know how I’ll find him. It’s been eighty years. He’s probably moved on, found someone else.” The vampire looks so heartbroken in that moment. “Or he’s dead. Maybe the Nazis got to him too. I…I tried to stop them. I tried to hide him from them, but…” he shakes his head. “They probably got to him anyways. I can only imagine what they did to him…”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Jeongin says. “Besides, it’s really easy to find people nowadays. I’ll help you find him, don’t worry. I’ll help you get back onto your feet completely. The world has changed a lot in eighty years, but you’ll get the hang of it, I’m sure of it!”

The vampire gives him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Jeongin smiles back. “What’s your name, by the way? My name’s Jeongin.”

“Nice to meet you, Jeongin.” The vampire smiles. “My name’s Hyunjin.”

Jeongin’s smile immediately drops, as does his stomach. “I’m sorry, what?”

The vampire blinks. He’s stiffening now, like he’s afraid he’s said the wrong thing.

“Your name is Hyunjin?” Jeongin says.

Slowly, the vampire nods. He eyes Jeongin warily.

“Oh my god.” Jeongin covers his mouth with his hands. “Oh my god, what are the odds…”

The vampire— _Hyunjin_ —just continues to eye him warily, and at that moment, Chan walks over.

“How are you doing over here?” Chan asks Hyunjin. “Anything we can get you?”

“He’s Hyunjin,” Jeongin squeaks.

Chan frowns at Jeongin before looking at Hyunjin. “Hyunjin? That’s your name?”

Hyunjin nods, after a moment. “Does that…mean something to you…?”

“ _Yes_!” Jeongin says, now starting to bounce with excitement. “It means so much! It all makes so much sense now! You didn’t die in that fire—you were captured by Nazis and shoved in a coffin for eighty years! No _wonder_ your locket ended up in some of the stuff from the vampire experiments! Oh my god!” He jumps up.

Hyunjin’s hand automatically goes to his throat, out of habit, but when his hand grasps at nothing, he quickly drops his hand back into his lap. “I don’t understand.”

“I know Minho!” Jeongin says.

Hyunjin stares at him, his eyes wide. “You…you know Minho?” he whispers. “He’s alive?”

Jeongin nods so hard he swears he dislodges something. “Yes! And he hasn’t moved on. He still loves you after all of these years—I know because he told me.”

Hyunjin’s eyes are full of tears again as he hugs his hands to his chest. “He said that? He really said that?”

“Yes!”

Hyunjin looks like he wants to say more, but instead he just bursts into tears.

“Oh, great, Jeongin made him cry,” Changbin says.

“No, it’s happy tears, I think,” Jeongin says. He goes over to Hyunjin and hugs him. Hyunjin automatically leans into him and grabs onto his arm. “It’s okay, we’ll get him and bring him here. He’s going to be over the _moon_ when he sees you.”

Hyunjin just nods, tears still streaming down his face. But he’s still able to smile.

*

It’s easy to get Minho to the museum. All Jeongin has to do is mention that they found something that he might be interested in, and that they need an expert’s opinion on it. Minho at first shrugs and says he’s not much of an expert, but Jeongin waves him off with a smile and says, “Trust me, you’re the best resource we have.”

Minho rolls his eyes at the flattery, but Jeongin says, “Please? For science? And history?”

And Minho sighs and says, “Oh, alright. Just because you’re cute.”

Jeongin grins at that.

He coordinates with the others (without Minho’s knowledge, of course) and has them keep Hyunjin occupied in Chan’s office. Hyunjin knows about the meeting, of course, but according to a text from Chan, he’s a nervous mess. Jeongin texts back and assures him that it will all go well.

Then he puts his phone away and smiles at Minho, who has no idea what he’s about to walk into.

*

Hyunjin can’t sit still. He tries to relax in one of Chan’s plush armchairs, but he keeps shifting his position, unable to get comfortable. At one point, he starts chewing on a fingernail, and then he starts fidgeting, and then he starts jiggling his knee.

He doesn’t realize how much it’s driving Chan crazy until Chan says, “Can you please sit still?”

“Oh.” Hyunjin drops his hands into his lap and wills his knees to stop bouncing. “Sorry.”

Chan gives him a smile. “It’s okay.”

“I’m just…really nervous.” Hyunjin wipes his sweaty palms on his pants. He’s grateful to Chan and Jeongin and the other two for getting him cleaned up and changed into a fresh set of clothes. Apparently the pants are called “jeans,” and the shirt is called a “cotton t-shirt.” Hyunjin likes the t-shirt, but not the pants. They’re too tight and uncomfortable. They chafe in places. Not to mention how the style is completely not his own. He wants his old button-up shirts tucked into dark pants back, maybe with a few buttons at the top loosened. He always used to unbutton them one button too low, just to get a reaction out of Minho.

 _Minho._ He was all Hyunjin could think of in that damn coffin. He’s all Hyunjin can think of now.

“Why are you nervous?” Chan asks.

“I just…” Hyunjin fidgets with the hem of the t-shirt. “It’s been _eighty years_. What if he’s changed? What if he’s a completely different person? What if he’s so different that I hardly recognize him? What if he’s _moved on_?” He wraps his arms around his stomach. “I don’t know if I’d be able to live without him.”

“People change with time,” Chan admits, making Hyunjin look at him. Chan smiles. “But deep down they’re the same they’ve always been. Jeongin played me the recordings from Minho—you can really hear how much Minho still cares for you.”

“Thanks.” Hyunjin gives a brief smile and looks down at his hands again. His stomach is still knotted with nerves. “But what if…after all these years, the spark has died out? What if we get back together and then burn out completely?”

“Were you worried about that when you first got together?”

“Minho was. I knew that we were going to last forever.” Hyunjin bites his lip, wincing as a fang sinks into it. “It’s different when you realize how long forever really is. For me, eighty years passed in the blink of an eye. For him…it probably felt like an eternity. There’s too much of a disconnect there.”

Chan’s magical device—called a _phone,_ apparently—dings, and Chan picks it up. “It’ll be okay,” he tells Hyunjin as he stands from his own chair. “Trust me. Even if Minho for some reason doesn’t want you back—”

Hyunjin makes a little terrified, choked sound.

“—we won’t leave you to navigate this world on your own,” Chan finishes with a gentle smile. “We’ll help you out, I promise.”

Hyunjin just nods, a lump in his throat at the thought of Minho rejecting him. He truly doesn’t think his heart will be able to handle it.

He barely has time to really think about it before there’s a knock at the door. Hyunjin jumps to his feet, the nauseous feeling peaking and sending out bolts of electricity throughout his body. He’s shaking all over. He has to hold onto the back of the chair to stabilize himself, and he thinks he should probably sit down, but he just knows for some reason that he has to be standing for this.

This all passes in the blink of an eye, and then the door is swinging open, and Hyunjin finds himself face-to-face with the single person he only saw in his dreams for the past eighty years.

Minho stops, his eyes widening with alarm, his entire face going a paler color than Hyunjin has ever seen, which is ironic considering Minho is technically dead. It gives Hyunjin a chance to study him.

He hasn’t changed one bit. Not really. His face looks the exact same, with the same graceful cheekbones, pointy nose, feline eyes, and perfect lips—which have a little bit more red to them, probably a result of makeup. His eyes still sparkle and hold the same warmth, even if he’s staring at Hyunjin with horror. His hair is still dark and parted, which makes him look even more of a stereotypical vampire. The only difference is his clothes—a comfortable, soft, baggy sweater, a pair of dark grey pants, and casual shoes.

He looks so soft. Hyunjin heart aches at the sight of him.

Minho is still staring at him. Hyunjin wonders how much time has passed since he’s stepped into the room. He wonders if he should say something.

But what would he say? What could he possibly say that would make up for eighty years of separation and loneliness and confusion?

His mouth decides to move without him, and suddenly he’s whimpering, “Minho.”

Minho lunges forward at that, and Hyunjin instinctively flinches. But it’s just Minho wrapping him up into a hug that’s so soft and warm and comforting. It’s the first hug Hyunjin’s had from the love of his life in an eternity, and it’s just as incredible as he thought it would be.

He overcomes his fear and hugs Minho back, lowering himself slightly so he appears smaller than he actually is. He buries his face in the crook of Minho’s neck and breathes in the scent of him—somehow, he smells the exact same as Hyunjin remembers: a sweet, subtle, natural smell, like flowers, almost.

He finds himself swallowing back the lump in his throat more frequently until he can’t anymore. Everything comes pouring out, and once it starts, he finds it nearly impossible to make it stop, even though he tries.

“Shh,” Minho murmurs, lifting his hand to cradle the back of Hyunjin’s head. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe now. You’re safe. You’re home.”

That just makes Hyunjin cry even harder, and Minho hugs him even tighter. They’re pressed so close that he can feel the tremors in Minho’s own body, and he knows now that Minho is crying too.

For some reason, Hyunjin feels the need to apologize.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I just—I—” Hyunjin can’t find the words. “I’m sorry I was gone for so long.”

Minho pulls back suddenly, frowning. “Did…did you leave me for eighty years? On purpose?”

“No!” Hyunjin says quickly, but Minho doesn’t seem convinced. “No, I would never.”

“Then where have you been all this time?” Minho’s starting to grow frustrated. “Where could you have possibly been for eighty fucking years? Do you know how long eighty years is? It’s a fucking _lifetime_ , Hyunjin.”

“I was…in a coffin.”

Minho arches an eyebrow. “You expect me to believe that?”

He starts to withdraw some more, and Hyunjin’s nausea returns. Suddenly his mind is full of the white noise of fear, and he can’t speak. He’s panicking too much, worried that Minho is going to pull away forever, and he’ll never be able to persuade him to come back.

Jeongin comes to his rescue, clearly seeing Hyunjin floundering.

“It’s true,” he says, and Minho turns to him, completely skeptical. “It was completely sealed for eighty years. We took some tests to date the sealant and the coffin. Before that, we have records of where it has traveled since then. We can show you it, if you’d like. We can show you all of it.”

“You—an immortal vampire—were stuffed in a coffin for eighty years,” Minho says again, now looking back at Hyunjin. “How stereotypical can you get? Who stuffed you in there?”

Hyunjin shrinks into himself, knowing that Minho won’t like the answer. “Nazis,” he says in a small voice.

Minho snorts. “Nazis.”

“It was part of their huge experiment,” Jeongin jumps in again. “Their vampire experiments! It’s how I even found you in the first place! Remember how I told you that I found Hyunjin’s locket in a box full of stuff from the vampire experiments? How do you think it got there?”

Minho blinks, then glances at Hyunjin, who tries not to watch him intensely but ends up doing it anyways.

“But…the fire…I found a body,” Minho says. “If it wasn’t yours, then whose was it?”

“Klaus’s,” Hyunjin says.

Minho looks so perplexed that Chan steps in with a warm smile and says, “How about we all sit down for some tea and cookies? I think we’re going to need it if we hear Hyunjin’s side of the story.”

“I think that’s a great idea!” Jeongin says, nodding vigorously. He gives Minho a hopeful smile.

Minho’s lips are pressed into a thin line, but he nods too. “Alright,” he says.

“You’re going to want to call Changbin and Jisung,” Jeongin tells Chan. “They’ll be so mad if they miss out on this.”

Twenty minutes later, they’re all still crammed in Chan’s office, but this time with mugs of tea and a few containers of cookies on the desk. Changbin and Jisung are there now, too, though both look like they’ve just been dragged out of a nap.

All eyes are on Hyunjin, who can’t help feeling a bit uncomfortable with the attention. He decides to focus on Minho instead. Once he meets Minho’s eyes, everything else disappears. This is his part of the story, the part that he needs to convince the love of his life. No one else matters but them.

So, Hyunjin takes a deep breath, looks into Minho’s eyes, and says, “This is what happened that day.”


	5. Chapter 5

It was just like every other day. Minho had left early—albeit a bit earlier than usual—and Hyunjin had slept in as late as he wanted before he dragged himself out of bed and into the studio. Lucy trotted along behind him, mewing loudly about whatever she was annoyed about that morning. Hyunjin scooped her up and put her on his shoulder, where she stopped mewing and started purring instead.

God, sometimes she was like a parrot. Loved to be perched on his shoulder while he worked. Hyunjin shook his head, but he was smiling.

He worked all day, which wasn’t unusual. He had started doing commissions, finally, and the local rich turned out to be high-paying customers. Hyunjin found that he could whip out at least two full-sized paintings in a week (if he didn’t sleep), though he decided to limit himself and only do one every two weeks. It brought in enough money, anyways. Even though Hyunjin and Minho didn’t really care for money. Who needed all that when they had each other?

The money now was more for the kids. For the orphans. Though, now, Hyunjin supposed it was going to be more for Klaus than anything.

Klaus was set to move in in a few days. Hyunjin could tell that Minho was excited. He was smiling so much more, especially when he thought Hyunjin wasn’t looking. But Hyunjin was always looking and admiring when Minho didn’t realize it, and it always made him smile.

Things would be different, but Hyunjin would adjust. He just didn’t know how well Klaus was going to take the whole immortal, homosexual, vampire deal…probably best not to hit him with that right away. Probably not until a few months after he had moved in and settled.

Things really were going to change, weren’t they?

Hyunjin wished he had realized how drastically they would change. And how quickly.

He finished painting for the day and set Lucy on the floor as he got up and walked downstairs. It was evening already, and Minho still wasn’t back, but he _had_ said he wouldn’t be back until late. Hyunjin wondered what he was doing. He missed him already.

Hyunjin decided to help himself to some wine before settling down in the drawing room, where he put on one of their favorite records and sat in one of their armchairs with a novel. Lucy, of course, made herself at home in his lap. Hyunjin absent-mindedly stroked her fur every now and then.

The sun had been gone for an hour or so when there was a loud knock at the front door. Hyunjin looked up from his book, wondering who that could be. They didn’t really get visitors here. He supposed it could be Mr. Kim, but Mr. Kim still didn’t come to the house at night, as his superstitions of the place still held after all these years.

Hyunjin set his wine and book aside, picked up Lucy, and stood. He set her on the armchair to keep the seat warm before walking into the foyer. Times like these when he wished they had invested in a housekeeper or butler. He hated answering the door.

At least he had thought to get dressed today, though. Most days he just wore the silk robe all day. Usually he put clothes on underneath. Usually. (sometimes not if he wanted to be a tease to Minho, which almost always worked)

He opened the door to find a group of men dressed in uniforms standing on the front step. They were pale and pasty and reminded Hyunjin of sour milk. He bet that’s what they would have tasted like. He realized after a moment that these were the same men whom he had seen lingering around the town nowadays. He and Minho tended to avoid them.

Hyunjin arched an eyebrow at them and said, “Can I help you?”

“Yes, I believe you can,” one of the men said, stepping forward. Judging from the way he carried himself, he was clearly the one in charge. A captain, perhaps. He put a hand on the door, as if to hold it open. As if to get a better look at Hyunjin. “May we come in?”

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes at him, and movement caught his eye. He glanced at the group of men, now realizing that they weren’t all men. One of them happened to be a baby-faced youth, with a different uniform, but with the same symbol on his armband.

“Klaus,” Hyunjin said, frowning. “What are you doing?”

“That’s the one, sir,” Klaus said, pointing at Hyunjin. “Or, that’s one of them.”

“Lovely,” the captain said, smiling.

Hyunjin was still frowning at Klaus, so he barely had time to react as the group of men surged forward, forcing the door open. Hyunjin stumbled, about to open his mouth to protest, when two of the men grabbed him by the upper arm and dragged him back.

“Hey,” Hyunjin scoffed. “Get your hands off of me.”

“Search the house, take anything that’s valuable,” the captain said, strolling into the foyer like he owned the place.

His men saluted and dispersed. Only Klaus remained behind, next to the captain.

Hyunjin tried to wrench his arms out of the mens’ grasp, but their grips were iron. “This is _my_ house—you can’t just come in here and take whatever you want—”

“Oh, but I believe I can,” the captain said, hands clasped behind his back as he studied the portrait of Minho hanging in the foyer. He pursed his lips, his face full of disgust. “After all, you’re not human. Therefore, I’m above you.”

Hyunjin froze at that, but then the captain waved a hand dismissively without even turning around.

“Take him,” the captain said.

The two men holding Hyunjin started dragging him towards the door, and Hyunjin panicked.

“No!” he yelled, struggling. “No, you can’t do this! Let go of me!”

It was no use. They kept dragging him towards the door, but before they made it to the door, Hyunjin saw the captain turn towards Klaus and smile.

“You’ve done well,” the captain told him. “The Fuhrer will be most pleased with you.”

Hyunjin took one look at Klaus, and something came over him in that moment. He had never felt it before—he could only describe it as bloodthirsty _rage_ , the kind that definitely was not human, and therefore could not be suppressed.

“ _You_ ,” Hyunjin snarled, his fangs popping out.

He briefly remembered Klaus’s eyes going wide with horror before Hyunjin lunged forward, overpowering the two men. Everything after that went somewhat hazy, all tinged red and blinding. Thinking back on it, he knows what happened—he ripped Klaus’s throat out.

Blood went everywhere. Soaked down the front of Hyunjin’s shirt. Sprayed the floor. It even splattered on the wall nearby. Hyunjin didn’t care. All he cared about was the sweet taste of human blood, something he had never indulged in before.

And oh, it was _divine_. Nothing had ever tasted so sweeter. All of Hyunjin’s senses heightened, to the point where he could hear and smell and _taste_ every single breath, every pulse, every movement of blood through every being within the house. He had never felt so alive as he did in that moment, and he just wanted more, more, more. He wanted Klaus to _pay,_ to suffer immensely for betraying him and Minho like this.

But then something collided with the back of his head, and everything went black.

He only regained consciousness once, when they were dragging his limp body out of the house. He barely managed to lift his head and look up at the house, where flames sprouted out of it, giving off a massive plume of smoke. Then the men threw him into a metal cage on the back of a truck. He remembered the loud squeak of the metal hinge swinging closed, and then his entire world plummeting into darkness once again.

The next time he awoke, he was in another cage. He was dressed in threadbare, gray clothes that did nothing to keep out the chill of the room. He shivered, then pushed himself to his hands and knees. The moment he brushed the bars of the cage, immense, burning pain shot through him, and he fell backwards.

“Don’t touch it,” a voice murmured from somewhere else in the dark room. “It’s coated in silver.”

Hyunjin craned his neck to search for the voice, then realized that the room was long and rectangular and full of more of these cages—like a prison block. The only light came from directly above the aisle in between the cages, doing nothing to illuminate the interior of the actual cells.

“Who are you?” Hyunjin asked. “Where am I?”

There was a soft, raspy laugh before the voice responded, “I’m just like you. Welcome to the one place worse than Hell.”

Hyunjin didn’t understand that entirely, but then another thought crossed his mind.

 _Minho_.

“Minho?” he called out, then panic took over entirely, and his voice rose in volume and pitch. “Minho?”

No one responded, not even the voice from before.

“Where is he?” Hyunjin demanded to no one in particular. “ _Where is he_?”

“Only you came in, lad,” the voice from before said. “No one else.”

Hyunjin wasn’t sure how to react to that. A part of him was relieved, while another wanted to dissolve into a fit of tears and collapse. Out of habit, he reached for his locket, needing any source of comfort in that moment.

Pure terror shot through his veins when his hand passed through nothing, and he made a choking noise as he grabbed at his own throat, searching for the familiar texture of the locket’s chain hanging there.

There was nothing. His locket was gone. _Minho_ was gone. They took him from him. They took _everything_ from him.

Hyunjin can only describe the pitiful wail that came out of him as inhuman. Even to this day, he remembers the sound, and he remembers thinking that there was no way that could have come out of him.

But it did. And he sounded like a haunted, grieving ghost. He supposes that that’s not so far off from the truth.

He ended up retreating from the bars, curling up into a corner, his heart pounding with confusion and grief. So much grief.

He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know what was happening. He didn’t know where Minho was, or if he was okay. He didn’t know _anything_. That is, until the soldiers and doctors showed up. Then he discovered quickly what was about to happen to him and the other occupants of the cells.

The sounds of heavy footsteps and sharp voices broke Hyunjin out of a pitiful sleep. He sat up, his ears strained, listening as another metal hinge squealed. There was a scuffle, then more sharp voices barking out orders. A moment later, a group of soldiers and a single doctor walked by Hyunjin’s cell, dragging a young, dark-haired woman in grey, threadbare clothes.

Hyunjin drew as close to the bars as he dared and tried to see where they were taking her. They took her farther down the hall, where Hyunjin lost sight of them. He heard another door open and close, and then silence.

Hyunjin retreated from the bars again, back to his spot in the farthest corner.

Only a few minutes later, the screaming started.

Hyunjin jolted like someone had electrocuted him, his entire body on edge. The screams continued, growing more and more pitiful as time went on. Eventually, Hyunjin couldn’t take it anymore and covered his ears. Shortly after he did that, the screams stopped abruptly, and the entire cell block descended into a terrible silence.

Then the door at the end of the hall opened, and the soldiers and doctor came out, but this time empty-handed. The smell of death followed them, making Hyunjin recoil, even though he was already pressed as much as he could against the wall.

The soldiers and doctors selected another person from another cell, dragged them back down the hall, and the screaming continued.

Those days—weeks?—passed in a blur. Hyunjin spent most of it in the farthest corner of the cell, barely sleeping, always too on-edge with terror about what would happen next. The soldiers and doctors always only took three at the most, and the screaming would sometimes go on for hours, or days, even. Hyunjin wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what they were doing to those poor people. He wasn’t sure which was worse—knowing or not knowing. Either way, the screams were terrible, and he spent his time curled into a ball, covering his ears, and trying not to cry.

Most of the time…he thought about Minho. He wondered if Minho was okay, or if he was somewhere here too. He wondered if they had already gotten to Minho, and if Minho had already been in that terrible room at the end of the hall. He didn’t want to think about it, but he did. That was what scared him the most—not his own suffering, but Minho’s. This situation was similar to Minho’s greatest fears, and Hyunjin wished he could save him. Wished he could comfort him.

When he did sleep, he dreamed of Minho. He dreamed they were back at home, in their bed, holding each other tight. It always felt so warm and real. Hyunjin usually woke up reaching for him, only for his heart to shatter when his hand passed through empty air. He usually silently cried himself back to sleep.

Then, one day, they came for him. Hyunjin made some sort of inhuman shriek in the back of his throat as they stopped in front of his cell, opened the door, and reached for him. He tried to dodge them the best he could, but they grabbed his wriggling body and dragged him out. He fought against them to the best of his ability, but after weeks spent in that cell with no blood to strengthen him, he was too weak.

Soon he was going through that terrible doorway, and the door was swinging shut behind him.

The room reeked even stronger of death. It also smelled like garlic and something burning—something organic, like flesh or hair. Hyunjin’s stomach turned, and he tried and failed once again to get away.

They paused at the edge of a table, giving him the briefest glimpse of the rest of the room. He saw bloody crosses and wooden stakes hanging on the wall and next to other bloodied medical tools on metal tables. He saw the bodies of the two unfortunate souls before him, one of them cut open and dissected like an animal, their organs either left out on nearby carts or in jars. One jar even contained what looked like pulled teeth— _vampire fangs_ , Hyunjin realized with a surge of nausea. Another body was covered in so many burns that they were practically unrecognizable.

Hyunjin made another one of those animalistic noises in the back of his throat, and then he was being lifted up onto one of those tables. He panicked, then thrashed to no avail. They set him in some dark, wooden hole, which his mind didn’t register right away.

He heard the doctors saying something about a time limit of a few years or so, but Hyunjin barely registered it at that moment.

It was only after the soldiers lifted a huge, wooden lid that he realized what was happening, and he panicked. He screamed and tried to get out of the box—the _coffin_ —but they dropped that heavy lid on top of him, silencing his screams. He pushed back against the lid, screaming for them to let him out. He even clawed marks into the wood above him in his attempt to get out.

Useless. It was all useless. They trapped him into that coffin, then set about sealing it. No matter how much Hyunjin screamed from his new dark prison, they wouldn’t let him out.

He screamed and thrashed and clawed and sobbed. He beat his fists against the lid. He hyperventilated, then panicked about wasting his air, then started gasping even more.

It was only after hours of this that he realized he was having no difficulty breathing. Despite the fact that he was sealed in a coffin for god knows how long, he was fine. He could breathe. He could survive. He realized later that that’s what they were testing all along—how long a supposed vampire could survive in a sealed coffin.

That realization didn’t help his mood, though. It just caused him to descend into another fit of despair as the reality set in.

They were going to seal him in here for eternity. He would never get out. He would never die, but he would never really live again, either. He was suspended in a limbo between life or death, a limbo that would never end.

He would never see Minho again.

 _That_ was what broke him.

Once again, he thought only of Minho during that time. At some point, he fell asleep and didn’t wake up, and when he did, he dreamed of Minho. Just of Minho and him, slow-dancing in their bedroom, with Hyunjin’s head resting on Minho’s shoulder and Minho’s arms around him, while Minho hummed along to their favorite record playing.

He would never get to experience that again.

Or so he thought.


	6. Chapter 6

Hyunjin stares at his hands as he finishes telling his part of the story. That panic from the darkness closing in around him is still there, simmering below the surface. He wonders if it’ll ever go away.

Around him, the room is silent. He knows they’re all staring at him, probably in horror and disgust.

This is the moment, he realizes, where Minho decides he doesn’t want to deal with him after all. This is the moment where Minho decides that his life is better without Hyunjin in it, that the idea of Hyunjin being dead is better than the reality of Hyunjin being a broken mess, that Hyunjin isn’t worth it.

This is the moment where Minho gets up and leaves Hyunjin forever.

Hyunjin closes his eyes, sees the lid closing above him, and quickly opens his eyes again.

This was a mistake. He never should have given them all the details. Now they’ll never want to help him.

Suddenly, though, someone moves. Hyunjin jumps out of instinct, only to realize that it’s Minho who’s moving. And he’s not moving to leave, either. Instead, Minho reaches out and takes Hyunjin’s hand, which makes Hyunjin flinch again from the sudden contact.

Hyunjin looks up, expecting to see the disgust in Minho’s face, but instead he just sees warmth. And…love.

After all this time, Minho still looks at him the same. It brings tears to Hyunjin’s eyes, and he can’t hold back anymore.

Minho can’t either, it seems. He pulls Hyunjin into his arms as Hyunjin bursts into tears, murmuring, “It’s okay. It’s all over now. You’re safe. You’re with me, and you’re safe.”

Hyunjin just whimpers and buries his face in Minho’s shoulder.

A few moments pass before someone—probably Jisung—lets out a low whistle.

“That is one traumatic story, man,” Jisung says.

Changbin and Chan immediately elbow him from both sides, and Jisung looks at them with wide eyes.

“What? It _is!”_ Jisung whines.

“Ignore him,” Changbin tells Hyunjin.

Hyunjin manages a soft laugh before he sniffs loudly. He pulls away from Minho, lowering his head as he wipes at his eyes and nose, suddenly embarrassed by all this attention. These people have all been nothing but kind to him, but he thinks his energy has been used up. Now, it’s too overwhelming to be around all of them. He just wants to go home. Go home and just be with Minho. Just catch up on the past eighty years. Just feel…safe, for once. Safe to just exist without being observed in some way or another.

Minho must know how he feels, because he puts a finger under Hyunjin’s chin and gently lifts Hyunjin’s gaze to his. There’s a silent question there, but also a reassurance.

 _I’m here for you, always_ , he seems to say without having to actually say it.

Hyunjin smiles back at him, his heart swelling with such love and adoration for this man. He never wants to be apart from him again. Not even for a moment.

Minho smiles at him before looking back at the others, his expression immediately changing into one that holds power and authority.

“No more questions,” Minho says.

“Aw, come on!” Jisung whines. “I wanted to know more about the jars—”

“No, he’s given you enough information for one night,” Minho says, standing. He holds out a hand to Hyunjin, who takes it and lets Minho lift him out of the chair, where Hyunjin immediately melts into his side. He doesn’t think he can bear a single moment where they’re not touching. They’ve both suffered from that for far too long.

“Thank you for telling us, Hyunjin,” Jeongin says with a soft smile at Hyunjin. “If you ever need anything, we’re here for you. All of us.”

“Absolutely,” Chan adds, nodding.

Hyunjin gives them a grateful smile. “Thank you. It means a lot.”

Jeongin beams at him and nods back.

After bidding goodbye to everyone, Minho guides Hyunjin out of the room and down the halls, to a large parking lot full of cars. It’s all so loud and _bright_ out in this giant city. Even though Hyunjin grew up in cities, he can’t help gawking at his surroundings, overwhelmed by how much things have changed. He stares with wide eyes at it all through the passenger window as Minho drives him home. He doesn’t think he’d be able to process this all if Minho weren’t holding his hand the entire time to ground him.

Eventually, Minho pulls off to the side of a tree-lined street, in front of a handful of townhouses. As they get out, Hyunjin can’t help looking at the townhouse in front of him with a feeling of disappointment and borderline disgust. This must be where Minho lives now. Where Hyunjin will soon live as well.

It feels _wrong_. This isn’t their home. Their home is a grand mansion in the middle of a countryside, with rolling hills surrounding it. Their home is full of Hyunjin’s paintings and Minho’s renovations. Their home is their four-poster bed and a couple of armchairs with a record player that only plays the same five or so records over and over again. Their home is the two of them against the world, with a little black cat for them to spoil.

Their home is gone. And Hyunjin has never felt the loss so heavily as he does in that moment.

He knows Minho senses his emotions from the way Minho squeezes his hand. Hyunjin looks at him with a heavy heart, and Minho looks back with the same kind of loss, but with an edge of hope to it.

 _Come in and see,_ he seems to silently say. _It’s better than you think._

Hyunjin lets him lead him inside, where he immediately feels cramped. The foyer is nothing more than a few steps across. The staircase is single and narrow. The only room for sitting and games and conversation is a tiny living room off to the left. The kitchen is the same size and barely fits a table and all these gleaming silver appliances.

Minho lets Hyunjin take it all in, though the moment is cut short when there’s a loud _meow_ at Hyunjin’s feet, which makes Hyunjin jump. He looks down to see an orange and white cat weaving in between his legs, purring.

“That’s Soonie,” Minho says.

Hyunjin stares down at the cat for a few moments before slowly crouching down to her level. He holds out his hand and lets her sniff it. Once she does, she purrs again and rubs her head against Hyunjin’s hand.

She lets Hyunjin gather her into his arms, where she continues to purr and rub her scent all over him. Hyunjin just hugs her as tightly as he can without causing her discomfort and buries his face in her soft fur.

She smells like home.

There’s another, softer _meow_ , and Hyunjin looks up to find a little, grey tabby approaching him. A third cat, another orange and white one, sits atop a sitting chair, gauging him from a distance.

“Then that little girl is Dori,” Minho says, crouching down next to Hyunjin. He makes a little kissy noise at Dori, who immediately butts her head against the back of his hand. “And then Doongie is in the back, there. She might take a bit to warm up to you, but I know she’ll love you.”

Hyunjin lets Dori sniff his hand, though she decides she wants nothing to do with him, and scampers off. Minho laughs at that, then looks at Hyunjin.

Hyunjin strokes Soonie’s fur for a few moments before meeting Minho’s gaze. An understanding passes between the two of them. How Hyunjin missed how easily they could communicate. It feels like bliss, finally being with the one who understands him the most once again.

Minho clears his throat, then says, “I have a surprise for you.”

Hyunjin can’t help feeling skeptical and a bit worried. “I’m not really in the mood right now, Minho. I’m really tired—”

“It’s not that,” Minho says, taking Hyunjin’s hand. “I promise.”

Hyunjin nods, after a moment. He lets Soonie out of his arms and stands with Minho, who gives him one last warm smile before turning and leading him up the narrow stairwell.

There’s only room for two rooms at the top and a washroom, all of which look so tiny. Hyunjin glances at them all before stepping into the main bedroom—Minho’s bedroom. Their bedroom, now?

It’s…tidy. Quaint. There’s a king-sized, four-poster bed in the center, made so nicely that there’s barely a wrinkle in the sheets, as well as a floor-length mirror in a corner and a dresser next to the bed. Minho goes to the dresser, where he takes a deep breath and opens the top drawer. He reaches into the back, where he brings out a bundle of soft fabric.

As he starts to unwrap it, Hyunjin’s breath catches in his throat. His eyes are transfixed on Minho’s hands, like if he looks away, this moment will cease to exist.

But Minho continues to unwrap the fabric until there’s a glint of metal, and suddenly it’s there. Hyunjin’s locket, the single object he mourned the loss of the most.

“Jeongin found it,” Minho says, lifting the locket from the fabric. “When they were going through…artifacts. It’s how he found me, actually.”

Hyunjin is fairly certain he’s stopped breathing.

Minho smiles softly at him before unclasping the locket and stepping forward. Hyunjin closes his eyes to savor the intimacy of this moment as Minho clasps the necklace around Hyunjin’s neck, planting a soft kiss on the side of Hyunjin’s neck before he withdraws. He studies the locket now hanging from Hyunjin’s neck and reaches out to adjust it, as though it needs any adjustment. He just wants an excuse to touch Hyunjin. The thought makes Hyunjin smile, even though there are tears welling up in his eyes once again.

Slowly, he touches the locket, feeling it’s familiar, smooth texture.

“I’m sorry I lost it,” Hyunjin whispers. “I’m sorry I lost _you._ ”

“You didn’t,” Minho murmurs. He cups the side of Hyunjin’s face. “It was something out of your control.”

Hyunjin closes his eyes and leans into Minho’s grasp. A single tear slips down his cheek, and Minho just simply brushes it away with his thumb.

“I love you,” Minho whispers. “I’ve always loved you. I never stopped. Not even when I thought you were dead. You were always with me, wherever I went. Even if I forgot myself for awhile, I never ever forgot you, or how much I loved you, and how much you loved me.”

Hyunjin wants to speak, wants to put all of his emotions into such eloquent words, but he’s so overwhelmed with love in that moment that his mind and his lips won’t work.

All he manages is, “I love you. So much.”

And the way Minho smiles at him tells him that that is enough.

Their heads fall together, pressing against each other naturally, and Hyunjin closes his eyes again as Minho puts his arms around him. As Minho begins to hum, they begin to sway together, and slowly, all of Hyunjin’s fears and worries fade away, leaving nothing but hope in their wake.

Hope, and understanding.

Their home was never gone. It was always right here, between the two of them.

Hyunjin smiles, even as tears still linger in his eyes.

He’s finally home.


	7. Epilogue

~ _Three Years Later~_

Hyunjin’s standing in front of their floor-length mirror, fussing with his tie. He’s probably tied it and untied it and tied it again about twenty times now, and Minho is just watching from amusement on their bed without offering any help whatsoever. It’s really helpful that modern mirrors aren’t backed in silver anymore, so the two of them can finally see their reflections.

Finally, Hyunjin just lets out a growl of frustration and takes the tie off completely.

“I’m so done with stupid ties!” he says, reaching up to fix his hair. “I’m just going without. Screw looking formal.”

“You look hotter without it,” Minho says, biting his lip. “Can you undo the top few buttons?”

Hyunjin meets his gaze in the mirror, where Minho doesn’t hide his hungry look whatsoever. Hyunjin smirks at him and begins to undo the top two buttons, going as slow as he possibly can, all without breaking eye-contact.

“You’re going to make us late,” Minho says.

Hyunjin snorts and rolls his eyes, and just like that, the mood vanishes. He reaches up to fix his hair _yet again_. Then he has to check his makeup and make sure it’s _perfect_ , and finally Minho drags himself up and saunters towards him.

“You look fine,” Minho says, looping his arms around Hyunjin’s waist from behind and resting his chin on Hyunjin’s shoulder.

“I know, I just…I’m nervous.” Hyunjin looks down at his hands, where he fiddles with his wedding ring. “I’m worried seeing it will bring up…will bring it all up again. I really don’t want to have a mental breakdown in the middle of a high-brow museum exhibit.”

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” Minho presses a kiss to the side of his neck. “We’ll just stay in. I can think of a _lot_ of more interesting things we can do instead.” He grins.

Hyunjin snorts at that, but his smile fades after a few moments. He’s still staring down at his hand, twisting his wedding ring over and over again.

“Hey,” Minho says softly, stepping back so he can turn Hyunjin around. Hyunjin lets him move him, though he doesn’t look up until Minho gently lifts his chin. “If you ever feel uncomfortable, tell me. We’ll leave. We’ll go to another part of the museum. Or, we can go to the art museum just across the street. We can go see that Monet exhibit again.”

“We’ve already seen it twice,” Hyunjin says.

“And we’ll see it thrice or a million times more if it makes you happy.” Minho smiles. “Really, darling, just tell me, and we’ll leave. Chan, Changbin, Jisung, and Jeongin won’t have any hard feelings at all. They’ll understand.”

Hyunjin takes a deep breath and nods, finally lifting his eyes to meet Minho’s. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Minho smiles again.

“I love you,” Hyunjin says.

“I love you too.” Minho kisses him, though Hyunjin reaches up to cup Minho’s face and hold him there for a few moments longer than usual.

When they break apart, Hyunjin takes another deep breath and straightens his spine. “I’m ready,” he says.

Minho offers him his arm. “Shall we?”

Hyunjin smiles at him and accepts. They link arms and stroll out of the house.

*

The exhibit is, in a word, incredible. And immersive. The front door is designed to look like that of a gothic castle, surrounded by fog that seems to transport you back in time to the first ever recorded vampire lore. (Jisung’s idea, of course, since he has a flair for the dramatics)

The rest of the exhibit is more of a maze, with plenty of artifacts and interesting descriptions to read, as well as waiters dressed as stereotypical vampires carrying silver platters of blood-red wine in crystal glasses alongside fancy finger food. All of this is cast in low, red-tinted lighting that Hyunjin calls, _sexy mood lighting,_ and filled ever-so-slightly with more of the fog from the fog machine that Chan said they paid too much for.

In all honesty, the exhibit doesn’t seem to trigger Hyunjin at all. Instead, he seems quite fascinated by it all. Of course, they skip over the section on the Nazi vampire experiments—where the same coffin that was Hyunjin’s prison for eighty years is on display—and head towards the “super special section” that Jisung told them about.

“Super special section,” Minho says with a snort, shaking his head at that kid’s antics. “That kid amuses me sometimes.”

Hyunjin smiles at that, but then his eyes go wide when he sees something in the distance. Minho frowns, suddenly concerned that Hyunjin has spotted something triggering, and he quickly follow’s Hyunjin’s gaze. When he finds what Hyunjin is looking at, though, he stops in his tracks.

“Forever and One Day: A Love That Defied All Odds,” Hyunjin reads aloud.

“I bet you Changbin came up with that one,” Minho tries to joke, though his voice comes out slightly hoarse.

They step closer to this small section of the exhibit, which has an entire wall of it’s own, right at the end. It’s set in a small, heart-shaped indent into the wall, like that of an opened heart-locket. In this giant heart locket are two blown-up pictures of the two of them, the same pictures that are in the lockets they both wear around their necks this very moment.

“I can’t believe they actually did it,” Minho says. “I _told_ Jeongin not to put this in the exhibit.”

He’s joking again, but when Hyunjin doesn’t respond right away, he glances at him out of concern that he’s overstepped.

Hyunjin has tears in his eyes, but he’s smiling. He feels Minho watching him and looks back at him, his smile widening.

“I don’t mind it,” Hyunjin says, squeezing Minho’s hand. “It’s beautiful, I think.”

“Do you think if they made a movie of it, they’d have us play ourselves?” Minho arches an eyebrow, and Hyunjin lets out a loud laugh that makes Minho grin. “No, honestly, I think we could do it.”

“I am _not_ re-enacting my traumas, thank you very much,” Hyunjin says. Then his eyes widen with excitement as he points at the end of the written description. “Oh! Look! They even mentioned that I’m a renowned artist!”

He giggles and bounces with glee, and Minho asks, “Well, what did they say about me?”

“You? Oh.” Hyunjin pretends to read for a moment, looking bored. “Just that you dance sometimes. No biggie.”

“You little—” Minho pokes him in the side with a grin, and Hyunjin lets out a little shriek that he immediately silences by slapping his own hand over his mouth. Minho laughs when Hyunjin gives him a look. As if Hyunjin can stay mad at him for longer than a few seconds.

They spend a little bit more time gazing at their section, then link arms again and begin to stroll through the last bits of the exhibit.

“I can’t wait for your exhibit in a few years,” Minho says, sipping at his wine. “It’s going to be _stunning_.”

Hyunjin blushes. “I _still_ can’t believe they tracked down almost all of my paintings from before the war. Say what you will about those Nazi bastards, but at least they had good taste in art and thought to loot our house before they dragged me off to a concentration camp.”

Minho snorts. “They literally burned paintings. They burned _me!_ ”

“Oh, I’ve painted you fifty times since then, when will you let that go?”

“But that was our wedding gift! Not to mention how I looked fine as hell in that painting.” Minho pretends to pout, but he’s not too worked up over the loss of his portrait in the foyer anymore. Not since Hyunjin literally recreated it to the T. And then did a brand new one, this time with Soonie, Doongie, and Dori sitting at Minho’s feet. It’s a gorgeous painting, and Minho loves how Hyunjin is finally painting portraits again.

“Remember, we have to congratulate Felix and Jeongin on their engagement when we see them,” Hyunjin reminds Minho as they finish going through the exhibit and now drift back through it again, this time in search of the esteemed curators.

“How could I forget?” Minho says with a smile. “I helped Jeongin pick out the rings. And _then_ helped him get up enough courage to finally _ask_ Felix.”

“Think we’ll be the best men for both of them at their wedding?”

“We’d better be. Since they were for ours.” Minho looks down at Hyunjin’s wedding ring gleaming on his finger and smiles. He had never felt so free in his life as when he did when he finally got to legally marry the love of his life. Although it didn’t dethrone their first, unofficial wedding eighty years prior, it did come close.

“Oh, look, there they are!” Hyunjin says, waving at a couple of (annoyingly) familiar faces in the crowd.

Jeongin turns and spots them, and the next thing Minho knows, he’s being tackled into a fierce hug. Minho pretends only momentarily to be annoyed before he lets go of Hyunjin to hug him back.

“How did you like it?” Jeongin asks, pulling back and looking at Minho with those big, sparkly eyes of his.

Minho smiles at him. “It’s incredible, Jeongin. I’m absolutely blown away by it. You did an amazing job.”

Jeongin beams so widely at him that his eyes turn into little crescents.

“I’m proud of you,” Minho says, punching his shoulder lightly.

“Thank you,” Jeongin says. “I seriously couldn’t have done this without you.”

They smile at each other for a few moments before Jisung calls out in the background, “Ey, ey, bring out some more _wine_ , baby!”

“Hell yeah, more wine, baby!” Changbin chimes in, lifting his half-empty glass.

“No, you’re cut-off,” Chan says, waving away the waiter with an apologetic smile.

“And they’re drunk at their own exhibit opening,” Minho says.

“Yep,” Jeongin says.

“At least they’re Chan and Seungmin’s problem, now.”

Jeongin grins at that, and then Felix comes running over to loop his arm through Jeongin’s, his new engagement ring glinting in the light. Minho smiles at the way the two of them exchange a smile where it’s like only the two of them exist in that moment.

He feels a hand on his arm, and he looks away from Jeongin and Felix to find Hyunjin smiling at him in the exact same way. And Minho smiles back, his chest filling with warmth.

Then Hyunjin says, “Shall we?”

Minho grins, and they rejoin their chosen family together.

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!! <3 
> 
> twt: @HHherohero


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